Death Sticks
by wineandpotatochips
Summary: Rey has a problem. A big problem. She knows it's wrong, unhealthy, dangerous, but she can't stop. And he doesn't want her to stop. ON HIATUS - I was sort of stuck with where to go with this fic before TLJ, and now I'm even more stuck because the story has moved on, so I'm putting it on hiatus for now. Just know that, whatever happened in between, they would have ended up together.
1. Chapter 1 -Rey

Death Sticks

* * *

"Rey?"

She jumped. Shit, she hadn't even noticed Finn walk up to her. She was so wrapped up in being…somewhere else…that she had lost all awareness of her surroundings. Oh, this was bad. She was in deep.

"Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Can I sit?"

 _Tell the traitor to GO AWAY._

She nodded and gestured at the chair across from her.

"Muffin?" Finn asked, holding out a plate.

She smiled and took the offered pastry. "Thanks."

 _Why did you let him sit down? We just started. I need you._

 _I'm in the kriffing cafeteria. It's breakfast time here, so sorry. I can't stop what I'm doing and get you off right now._

 _We'll see._

She growled and turned the muffin over and over in her hands, staring at it intently. Bran. Healthy. Hearty. Wholesome.

"You're supposed to eat it," Finn said with a lopsided smile.

"Huh?"

"Eat it. You know, put it in your mouth?"

 _Mmm. Yes, put it in your mouth Rey. Or maybe you'd like to have something else in your mouth?_

 _Shut up!_

She took a huge, angry bite of the muffin and chewed. It was like eating sand. She and Finn sat in awkward silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Rey, I'm worried about you. You've been acting…odd."

"Odd? What do you mean?"

"You're distracted, jumpy…like you're lost in your own world. You don't eat, I don't think you're sleeping much based on the bags under your eyes…"

No, she wasn't sleeping much. _He_ knew when she got in bed, and he whispered things to her…seductive, delicious things that he wanted to do with her. She tried to resist, and usually she could when she was awake, ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs. But when she went to sleep, he was there, in her dreams, except they were more than dreams…she could feel the heat of his skin, smell the scent of his body, as real as when she had been in that damn interrogation room – fire and metal and leather and something else, something she couldn't – didn't want to - resist. She never resisted in her dreams. She wanted him. Needed him. Craved his touch, his kisses, his mouth, his cock, doing things to her she had never heard of before, things that went far beyond the awkward gropings she had experienced on Jakku. Things that made her feel like a star going supernova, and then left her limp with pleasure.

She craved him, his intensity, his fascination, his longing. Needed him as much as he needed her, even though she would never admit it. She had told herself it didn't matter, because it wasn't real. They were dreams. She wasn't responsible for things she did in dreams.

But gradually, he had started popping into her head when she was still awake, wanting her, needing her, lonely and desperate to sleep and, well, she knew what that felt like. What harm was there in spinning a little fantasy to help him? And more and more often, she had laid in her little Resistance-issued cot, her hand sliding down inside her Resistance-issued sleep pants, touching herself while he described all the things he wanted to do to her, wanted her to do to him – depraved, dark things, sometimes, but also things that sounded so tender and beautiful they made her weep as she came.

He started showing up more and more, during the day as well as at night. And she gave in more and more.

She knew she had a problem.

"Rey? Please, tell me what's wrong," Finn said, his face so earnest and full of concern.

"You're right, Finn. Something is wrong. I…I think I'm…addicted to…something. Something…unhealthy."

 _Rey. What are you doing?_ There was a warning tone in the voice in her head, a threat, but also, a plea.

She threw up her mental shields as best she could, tried to block him out.

Finn's brow furrowed. "What?"

She bit her lip. Of course she wasn't going to tell him the truth but…maybe he could help her, if she made a small change. "Umm. Death sticks."

His eyes widened. " _Death sticks_? Where are you even…never mind. I don't want to know. Those things are dangerous. They'll kill you. Plus I've heard they mess with your connection to the Force. I'm guessing that'd be especially bad for you."

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yeah. It is. I need to stop, I do. It's not right. Finn, will you help me? I need to break the habit before…before it's too late."

She could feel waves of fury pounding against her mind, clawing at her consciousness, demanding to get in, but she clenched her fists and held him off.

"Of course. I'm your best friend."

She nodded. "You are."

"What can I do?" Finn asked.

"Just be there for me. Hold me accountable."

Finn nodded. "I can do that. Uh, anything I can do right now? You look kinda sick."

 _He_ was pounding at her mental shields, the rage tinged with fear as she kept blocking him. She was shaking with the effort.

"N…no. Not now." The howling madness in her mind strengthened. She couldn't concentrate. "I…I need some air. I think I'll go for a walk. But just know that…that I appreciate you being there for me." She fled the mess hall, fear-induced nausea curling in her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was her fear or his.

* * *

As soon as she was outside the walls, she let her shields down. A tidal wave of emotion – anger and fear mostly, but also hurt and loneliness and self-loathing – washed over her. It was so strong it made her dizzy, and she fell to her knees, hands over her eyes, until it abated.

 _Death sticks?_ His voice was snide. _That's what I am to you?_

 _Finn could tell something was wrong. Everyone can. I'm a mess. I'm preoccupied and distant and groggy all the time because…because all I can think about is you. I'm miserable._

 _I know. I feel it too. It's because we're meant to be together. Come to me. It would be…ecstasy._ His voice was so low, barely more than a deep rumble, and she could feel her panties getting wet just from hearing it.

 _I can't. I won't._

 _Please. Rey, you know it's what we both need. Join me. Let me be your teacher. Together we can…_

 _Don't say it._

 _Fine. But you know it's true. And I need you._

 _Then you come to me. Give up the First Order. We can be together. Here._

 _You know better. They would try me. Probably execute me, or at least lock me away. If I came back I would never have you, and I must. I must have you!_ His voice was loud in her head, pulsing with emotions that ran through her as well.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and tried to make sense of it all.

Things _had_ been going well.

Luke had been surprisingly acquiescent when Rey had asked him to come back to the Resistance and train her. He hadn't been pleased, exactly, but after she told him her story, told him what his sister was going through, he had given her a gentle, resigned smile and said, "Let's go home."

'Home' was no longer D'Qar. That location had been compromised, so while Rey, Chewie and Artoo were following the map to Luke, Leia was burying yet another heartbreak and coordinating a full-scale evac to the Hyborean moon, where they would build a new base in an old Imperial black-site prison. It was a promising location that had been scouted years ago. Despite having once been in Imperial hands, the Hyborean moon had been controlled by the New Republic since just after Endor, abandoned almost as long, and was far from the Core and the busy shipping lanes. The old prison had a hangar, mess hall, offices, cells that could be converted to housing, and easily-repairable infrastructure. With not too much work, it would prove to be an excellent, secure facility.

Rey had been on the moon now for three cycles around the planet Hybor, which also meant three lunar 'days' since the moon, like most, was tidally locked with its planet and took as long to rotate around its own axis as it did to revolve around its partner. That meant that for half the cycle – fifteen standard days - it was day and for the other half, night.

Inside the prison, there were few windows, and artificial lighting ran on a standard cycle meant to mimic an average planetary day and night. Most people stayed inside, because if they ventured outside the prison walls at midnight standard time, they might step into bright, glaring sun, or if they wanted to take a walk before breakfast, they may find themselves in deepest dark.

It was disconcerting.

Other than that, the moon was lovely, with a comfortable if slightly thin atmosphere that made the daytime sky a brilliant deep blue, accented by Hybor looming large and deep reddish-purple off the horizon. The moon had a cool, temperate climate with tall, lush trees and steaming hot-spring lakes. The homes of Imperial officers had once ringed the lakes, but they were nothing but rubble now, destroyed in what Leia termed an 'over-zealous assault' on the facility, a shadow of disapproval and second-hand shame flickering over her face.

Rey often slipped outside the towering durasteel walls of the prison and walked along the shoreline, picking her way through the ruined houses, scavenging for things that might prove useful to the Resistance. It was a small way she could contribute, along with pitching in as a mechanic when needed, although she was rarely asked. Her training with Luke was too important, she was told, but she feared she wasn't pulling her weight. So she scavenged. She scoured the destroyed houses, now covered with twining vines that were trying to reclaim them, as if nature itself wanted to obliterate any trace of the Empire's presence. She was not bothered by the ghosts of the past here any more than she had been on Jakku. War brought death raining from the skies and the living picked through the pieces left behind. She had always known this. It was simply a fact.

Besides, she just needed to get away from people sometimes.

There were so many of them, and she felt them, their feelings, their thoughts, pressing around her, clamoring for her attention, smothering her with their expectations and hopes and fears. She, ironically, _wanted_ to be alone sometimes now – or as alone as she could ever be anymore.

That was why she found herself by the lakeshore now, her feet taking her there automatically as her mind struggled to decide what to do. Physical labor always helped her make sense of things, so she went to work.

She walked up a path that had once led to a home, climbed over a partial wall, her hands getting smudged and grimy from the scorched stone, and dropped into what had obviously once been a child's room. There was the durasteel frame of a tiny bed; here was melted plastisteel in bright primary colors - what had once been a toy liquefied into a swirling rainbow ooze, hardened again into something strange and beautiful. She reached down and picked up the bright lump, ran her thumb over it, and dropped it into her satchel. She moved on, out of the child's room into what had been a kitchen, a sink and cooker and conservator now overgrown with the moon's ubiquitous vines.

Rey went through the house methodically, searching every cupboard and corner. She found some useful things: power cells; cabling; ration packs that weren't swollen or leaking and didn't smell spoiled; several bottles of spirits; a barely-singed winter coat and a stack of survival blankets.

She had also found the melted rainbow and a tiny blown-glass flower with only one petal broken off that she would keep for herself, adding them to the small stash of treasures on the shelf above her bed in the converted prison cell that served as her quarters. Some of the others complained about the cells, but she didn't understand why. They were clean and comfortable, with a real bed and a convenient refresher down the hall.

This…whatever it was (relationship? affair? seduction?)…had been going on since the trip to Ahch-To. Well, if she were completely honest, it had been going on since _Starkiller_ , but she didn't really count that, because neither of them had understood, then.

It didn't take _him_ long to figure it out.

At first it was just a presence, a feeling of being watched.

Then sensations – pain, hunger…arousal. Then emotions that weren't her own. Then snippets of thoughts. And finally, communication. Words meant for her, sent with intention:

 _Join me. Let me be your teacher. You have so much power; I can show you how to reach your full potential. My every thought is full of you – your power, your presence, your scent. You're meant to be with me; it is the will of the Force. That's why we're connected like this. Together we could be unstoppable. Together we could be whole. Come to me._

She had resisted, even though she felt the weight of truth, of something deeper than truth, in what he said.

Then the dreams had started, and…she had let herself enjoy them. Let herself touch and taste and revel in his obsession.

That had been a mistake.

She plucked flowers from the vines, braiding them into chains and twining them in her hair before she left the burned house, hurrying down the front walk, past a post box with a name on it in faded letters: Kress? Krass? It was too old and dull to make out.

She wandered back down to the lake, leaning over to scrub the ash and dirt from her hands, then letting the water still and peering at herself in the glassy surface of the lake.

The eyes that looked back at her were not her own.

 _A crown suits you, but you deserve jewels._

 _I prefer the flowers,_ she snapped.

 _Then I'll give you a garden._

She didn't respond, but she felt something inside her soften. He made her weak. Was that his intention, she wondered? Was it calculated, premeditated, meant to tempt her? Or did she make him weak, too?

Steam rose off the lake as the heat from the underground springs dissipated into the cool air. It was twilight on the Hyborean moon – a twilight that would last for several standard days – and the air was crisp. Silence stretched as she sat, trailing her fingers in the water. She longed to slip off her clothes and slide into the hot water, letting him see and feel it as she dipped her body lower and lower, letting the water cover her legs, her hips, her breasts…longed to let him in so she could feel his hands caressing each part of her under the water. But she shouldn't. This had gotten out of hand and it had to stop. It was dangerous. The pull toward him got stronger every day. She had to get control of herself.

 _Kylo?_

No answer.

 _Kylo, you have to understand. I can't keep doing this. It's driving me mad. I feel…disloyal. Kylo, please, I can't go on like this. It's…_

 _Tearing you apart?_

She blinked, shocked. _Yes._

 _I know. I KNOW. That's why we need to be together. Come to me._

 _No. I won't. I don't want to be…_ She stopped.

 _Like me?_ He gave a short, unpleasant laugh.

Something shifted, and his presence felt colder.

 _Fine. I'll be waiting when you finally admit the truth to yourself._ He withdrew, leaving an echoing silence inside her.

He was gone. He had given her what she wanted and she felt bereft. She sat on the shore and cried until she was so cold her fingers and toes were numb, then she trudged back to the base with her satchel of salvage.

* * *

Hyborean moon: The Hyborean Moon was mentioned briefly in _Aftermath: Life Debt._ I was searching for a location for a new Resistance base for this story, decided I wanted it to be in an old prison for no reason other than 'why not' (and, okay, symbolism), and here was the Hyborean moon, with no other backstory except it was "a moon that served as the site for an Imperial black-site prison during the Galactic Civil War. The moon also contained housing for Imperial employees and hot spring lakes that were a favorite recreational site. Following the Battle of Endor, a New Republic fleet attacked the Imperial facilities on the Hyborean Moon and liberated the prison. Romwell Krass Junior [an Imperial officer whose family was killed in what sounded like an overzealous attack by the New Republic] was forced to flee offworld into hiding" (Wookiepedia). And that gave me the perfect setting for this story! The planet this moon orbits wasn't named, so I picked Hybor. And no location was given so I decided it was out of the way and private.

Tidal locking: So being me, I had to research all the details of how moons work. Do they rotate on their axis (Yes)? How long is a day/night (Long!)? And what I found out made the setting even more perfect: Most moons are tidally locked with their planet. This results in one hemisphere of the revolving object constantly facing its partner, an effect known as synchronous rotation. For example, the same side of the Moon always faces the Earth. A tidally locked body in synchronous rotation takes just as long to rotate around its own axis as it does to revolve around its partner (Wikipedia). So basically, a lunar day lasts a month (based on how long our moon takes to circle the earth). So I kept the 'month' and transferred all that to the Hyborean moon, and I think I got it all 'right' but…gah…there's math. And that gave me a place where day and night are…off. Confusing. There's still half light and half dark but it isn't what is considered a 'standard' day/night cycle on Earth OR in Star Wars. And I liked that.

Why is the sky blue?: Yes, I actually looked this up. Short answer: The molecules of oxygen and nitrogen in the air scatter light and make it look blue. And there has to be an atmosphere for humans to breathe, so of course I gave the Hyborean moon one, but a thinner atmosphere would look darker blue, so I decided to go with that, just to look cool.

Next chapter will be from Kylo's POV. I'm sure he'll react to all of this in a mature, rational manner.

A million thank you's to my beta Perry Downing for encouraging me to publish this and helping me wrangle it into shape. It did not want to cooperate.

Reviews are so totally appreciated. I crave them like Kylo craves Rey. Well, maybe not that bad, but…a lot. J


	2. Chapter 2 - Kylo

He had not realized how dependent upon her he had become.

It had started when he was recovering.

His mind kept going back to their fight, replaying it over and over in his head, every slash, every parry, every step. He had told himself that she must have seen how hard he was trying not to hurt her; surely even someone as raw as she had been could tell what he was doing. Not that she wasn't good; she was. Breathtaking in her fury and her commitment, but untrained, holding a lightsaber for the first time – he could still see her face when she summoned the saber, took it from him, could hear the smack as it hit her palm. That was when they had both realized what she could do, what she _was_.

She could fight, that was evident; if that hadn't been true he could have swatted her away like an insect, like he had so many who dared to challenge him, Force-users or not. But she was vicious, determined and, okay, so he was rather badly hurt… _injured_ , he corrected himself. Injured was allowed so long as one used the pain and pushed through. Hurt implied weakness, it implied something deeper than skin and blood. So he had been injured, but even if he had been in top shape, he could tell she would have been a worthy opponent, which was why he had been so intrigued. Well, that and the fact that she radiated the Force with a strength and purity he had never seen. It was so strong he could taste it, touch it, and damn, he wanted to just immerse himself in it.

He had relished their fight, adrenaline and the Force surging through him, heating his blood like when he was young and everything was new and exciting. He had done all he could to prolong the battle, test her, see what she was capable of without truly harming her.

For so long, he had fought with an icy numbness, knowing the inevitable outcome – he would win, and they would die. Or, in encounters with his master, knowing that to fight was pointless, simply letting whatever was going to happen, happen.

But with her? It had been a contest of equals, and that made him feel more alive than he had in years. And when he offered to teach her…an offer he was most assuredly _not_ authorized to make, but he hadn't cared, not one bit, in that moment…he had thought, for long moments, that she would say yes, he had hoped, and he had opened his mind to her, shown her all the things he could teach her. She had faltered, confused and then…then she had taken it in and turned around and used it to defeat him, to wound him, to mark him with searing, burning pain.

It was then that he knew he was hers, irrevocably. And that she had to be his.

He had barely noticed when Hux showed up and had the Stormtroopers drag him onto a transport. All he could see was her face, her eyes, that look that had passed between them.

She had never left him after that, not really. He could always feel her, much like his…like Skywalker had described the pain of a phantom limb, a dull ache throbbing where no hand remained. He had been fascinated with the concept, long ago, when he had seen Luke Skywalker as dashing and heroic instead of insipid and blind.

This was like that, but _more_. Because it was like part of his very being had been cruelly lopped off, but was still out there, waiting to be reattached.

He had focused all his energy on strengthening their connection, reaching out to her, first along a delicate, gossamer thread, then a sturdier cable, until finally the connection was like a bridge, and he could just walk across, especially in dreams.

The first time he had visited her in a dream, she had been standing on a rocky beach in a gentle rain, her hand stretched out, a look of awe on her glowing face. When she noticed him, she smiled. Actually smiled. At him. He couldn't really remember the last time someone's first reaction to seeing him had been to smile. And oh, her smile was lovely, warm and radiant as a sun, and it made warmth flood his whole being.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she had asked, stretching out both arms to encompass the soft, fine rain.

"Yes. Beautiful."

She blushed and looked at the ground. She knew he didn't mean the rain.

"You aren't surprised to see me," he said, taking a step closer.

"No."

"Why?"

"I knew you'd come, eventually. I've felt you, heard you, calling me."

"And you're not afraid?"

"Should I be?"

"Oh, no. No. I just want to…speak with you."

"Why?"

"You know. You must know. You felt it too. We're…connected. We're meant to be together."

"Together how?"

His eyes flickered over her body, down and back up to meet her gaze. _In every way._

Her eyes burned into his. Now it was his turn to blush.

The rain stopped, turned to a fine mist that gathered on her hair and clothes and eyelashes. It made her look ethereal and delicate, like she was made of glass. He would have to be gentle with her. He could, he could be so gentle. He wanted to stare at her forever, but she was waiting for him to say something.

"I…let me teach you. Show you the ways of the Force."

Something like disappointment flickered over her face. "I don't want anything to do with the dark side." Her voice was firm, but she didn't turn away from him. Instead she stepped closer, her eyes still searching his.

"But you are…intrigued."

"Confused." She lifted her hand and placed a palm on his face. He gasped at the little tingle just before she made contact, at the warmth of her skin on his damp cheek. How long had it been since anyone had touched him? "Who are you?"

"Someone who needs you," he whispered, leaning down so his breath tickled her ear.

He felt her sigh and lean into him, her body so warm and soft, just like he remembered from when he had cradled her in his arms, but better because she was awake, and he pulled her into his arms. Yes, this, this was what he needed. Her, in his arms. His. "Come to me. I know you feel it, this connection. Let me teach you." _Let me love you._

A look of anguish marred her features. "I can't do that. I won't." She tipped her face up to look at him, eyes wide and searching. The mist clung to the little tendrils of hair that had escaped her buns and curled around her face. "But I will do this."

She stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged at his hair, dragging his face down to hers until she could reach his lips. The she kissed him. He had thought, fantasized about how he could manage to convince her to let him speak to her, touch her, and hopefully, someday, kiss her, and _she had kissed him_. It was frantic and desperate and hungry, a perfect match for the way he felt inside. She kissed him like she wanted to devour him, like she wanted him to devour her, because she did. Then his hands were moving over her perfect body, tugging the rest of her hair loose so he could tangle his fingers in the damp strands, shoving clothing aside to touch her skin, one hand cupping a breast while the other groped along her bottom and pulled her tight against his body. She moved her hips, rubbing and grinding against him, while she made little pleading grunts into his mouth. He felt her hands on him, clawing at his back, his chest, trying to find a way under his layers, and then his hands joined hers, ripping at the fabric, granting her access, and oh, fuck, her hands on his skin, her nails dragging down his chest, he couldn't get enough. He pushed her against a smooth boulder so he could thrust against her without knocking her to the ground. Not yet, anyway. He had one hand on the back of her head, pulling her mouth against his, hard, while he ripped at his trouser buttons with the other hand, still in a state of shock that this was happening, that she wanted this as much as he did, that she was as fierce and vicious as he was, that he wouldn't have to go slow and be careful not to break her.

"Need you. Rey. My Rey. Need to touch you, be inside you."

"Yes. Me too. I've felt it since…"

"Forever," He finished for her. "Mine. Always been mine. In every way."

"Prove it." She broke away from the kiss and glared at him, a challenge, an invitation.

He kissed his way down her throat, sucking bruises onto her skin, ripped at her vest, her shirt, took her nipple between his teeth and sucked and bit. Marking her like she had him. Damn his trousers, why was he having such a hard time taking them off? He was so hard it hurt but it was like something – not her - was pushing his hand away.

Then there was a loud blaring claxon, like an alarm, and something restraining his arms, and he opened his eyes to find that he was staring at the bright lights of the med bay. Two security droids were holding his arms and legs, clapping restraints on his wrists and ankles as he thrashed on a med bay bed, shouting. "No. NO! Rey!"

Hux was standing at the foot of the bed, an expression on his face like he had just swallowed an insect. "Administer more sedative," he said to the 21B droid. "Strongest dosage allowed."

He felt something cold flow into the veins in his arm, and a warm fog rolled into his mind. Far off, he heard her voice. "Come back. Please, come back."

"I will," he said. "I will."

He did. He visited her more and more, in dreams or awake. As often as she would let him. He came to rely on their connection, on her. Where once he would have lashed out in rage when he was overwhelmed with emotions, he reached for her; demanded her kisses and her touch and her skin beneath his hands. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough until it was real, until he could physically feel her flesh and taste her tongue and…

And now she had shut him out, rejected him, and he could not bear it. He stalked through the ship, pulverized droids in his training room, slashed at anything within reach at the slightest provocation, Force-slammed anyone who dared question him against the wall. He ached for a mission, for the long-promised completion of his training - any outlet for his pent-up frustration. If he had raged before, it was nothing compared to this. He was anger, he was fury – he was the dark side.

It was a run in with that ginger sycophant that finally brought everything to the boiling point.

He was on the bridge, staring out at the blackness of space, the scattered twinkles of stars, wondering where she was. Even now, when she had shut him out, he could feel her in his mind, but he could not locate her physically.

He had been reduced to having Hux try to locate the Resistance's new base through his spy network, and he resented it, resented having to ask his nemesis for help. But there was nothing for it. He had to find her, convince her to come back to him.

He spun around when he sensed Hux's presence on the bridge, stalked toward him. "Anything?" He growled.

Hux pressed his lips together, an irritating habit that grated on Kylo's nerves more and more each day. "Let's walk." He didn't wait for Kylo, just spun on his heel and marched along the length of the bridge. Infuriating. "My sources have captured and interrogated several low-level operatives – gun runners - but they do not know the location of the main base, just a drop-off location on Nar Shadaa."

"Nar Shadaa." Kylo waved a hand. "That is of no use to us."

"I am aware. I am merely reporting what has been gleaned."

"I assume you have the Nar Shadaa location under surveillance?"

"Of course. We have followed several ships that have left the location fully loaded, in attempts to follow or capture them, but they have eluded us thus far."

"HOW?" Kylo shouted, his voice echoing through the mask, making the nearby technicians jump.

"If I knew that I would have them in custody, would I not?"

"How can low-level gun runners evade your best scouts? I again find myself questioning the competence of your troops."

"We have had this discussion, Ren. I will not tolerate you questioning my methods again."

"Then _find them_."

Hux tilted his head, pursed his lips. "Why the sudden rush to find the Resistance? The Supreme Leader has not said this is a priority."

"I have my reasons," he snarled.

" _Your_ reasons. Once again, Ren, I think you are putting your personal interests – whatever they are, although I suspect I know – first."

Kylo turned and stepped in front of Hux, blocking his path. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Hux sneered. "I heard your filthy drug-induced muttering in the med bay after Starkiller. Personally, I don't care what you want to do to the scavenger girl, but do not let it interfere with…" Hux's words were cut off as he gasped and clawed at his throat. Kylo tilted his head and watched as his rival's face reddened, then mottled, purple and blotchy, as he struggled to suck in air.

Oh, he had longed to do this for years. Why hadn't he, when it was so utterly satisfying?

Then he remembered why. It was forbidden. Hate Hux he could; in fact he was actually encouraged to hate him, that rivalry set in place when they first met. But he was forbidden from harming him.

He gasped, dropping his hand, stumbled back, eyes wide behind the mask, breath coming in jerky gulps as Hux collapsed to the floor, panting. He backed away, shaken. His master would hear about this, he was certain.

Hux, always efficient, didn't waste any time tattling on him, and he found himself kneeling in the cavernous audience chamber, icy terror running through his veins. He had disobeyed a direct mandate. Punishment would be severe. He hoped it would also be swift - but it didn't seem that was to be the case. He had been kneeling in silence for so long his knees had stopped aching and gone numb against the cold stone. He could sense his master's presence, could almost feel disapproval coming off the holographic figure in rolling, greasy waves. Still, he stayed immobile, silent, eyes on the ground. Anything else would make things worse.

Finally, his master spoke. "Remove your helmet."

He did.

"Look at me."

He lifted his head, slowly, and met his master's baleful glare.

"You have been disobedient."

"Yes, Master. I allowed myself to lose control with the general. It will not happen again."

"Hux." Snoke's hologram flapped a long, bony hand. "He is insignificant. Useful for the time being, but in the larger scheme of things…irrelevant. It was not your disobedience regarding _Hux_ to which I was referring. "

His eyes widened, a jolt of adrenaline surging into his system. Surely he didn't know about…

"Of course I know about your tawdry little _infatuation_. About what you have been _doing_ with that scavenger girl."

Oh no. No, no, no. His hands started shaking, his heart thudding high and fast in his chest. Even worse than harming Hux. "Thoughts. Only thoughts…" he stammered.

"Do not attempt to justify yourself to me. I know what a Force Bond is. I know you have been _interacting_. Touching yourself but feeling _her_." He squirmed beneath his master's look of disgust. "Do you think I could not sense it? Do you think I was unaware of your growing obsession with her? Your desire to _have_ her? And your little…dalliance?"

He dropped his gaze, heat spreading over his face and down his neck.

"You are aware that you did not have my permission to…indulge."

He felt light-headed. Of course he _knew_ , but he hadn't cared. He had only known that she made him feel like a _person_ again, and he had pursued that, pursued _her_ , heedlessly. "Yes, master. But…it wasn't real…"

"SILENCE."

He trembled.

"Pleasure is mine to allow, just as pain is mine to inflict. You are aware of this."

He was.

"I allowed this insubordination to continue in the hopes that you could turn her, as you did your classmates at the Jedi Academy, but apparently you failed at even that. Now you will pay the price. _I_ will find the girl, and I will show you the dark side."

Fear lapped at him. He knew what Snoke would do to her, or what he would have him do to her. Pain, torture…perhaps some special torment because of his _personal interest_ in her, and finally death. He was not so naïve as to think otherwise.

"Wait. I _can_ turn her. I just need more time."

"Time. You always need more time." Disdain dripped from Snoke's voice. "It's pathetic."

He ground his teeth. It was true. But…Rey. He had a fleeting memory of her upturned face, lips parted, eyes fluttering closed right before he kissed her. He would beg, grovel, _anything_ to keep from having her be used as a _lesson_. "Yes, master, I know. I have failed you. But this time I won't, I swear. I just need your guidance. If I could have her with me, in person, I could turn her, I know I could."

Snoke regarded him for a long time, fingers steepled, face hard. "What makes you think this scavenger, this _girl_ , would be worth such an effort? Other than as your plaything?"

"She is strong in the Force. Full of raw power. So strong, so fierce - and mostly unspoiled by Skywalker's influence. I can feel the darkness in her, straining to be let out. She is a warrior, and she could be an asset to the Order. This is not about my…personal feelings."

"Indeed." Snoke pressed his thin lips together. "Well. If she is in fact all you say, perhaps. Perhaps she is worth my attention."

Hope soared in Kylo's chest. "She is. She could be glorious. A fine weapon for the First Order." He added quickly.

"Do you know her location?"

He looked down. "No, Master. She fears telling me due to her misplaced loyalty to the Resistance."

"But you are bonded." Snoke considered. "Yes. Yes, I believe there is a way to use that to find her and bring her here. It is not easy. It requires effort and a deep commitment to the dark side, as it is an unnatural ability."

"Will you teach me?" He waited, tense, hopeful.

"There will be preparation required before your connection to the dark is sufficient. But yes, I will teach you this skill."

"Thank you master." Gratitude swelled in his chest. The Supreme Leader did understand, he would let him have her, keep her, so long as she joined them. And he knew he could convince her, if only she was with him.

"Once you have mastered this skill, you will take her to Mustafar. Do as you will with her, but _know this_. You have one moon cycle to turn her. If not, you will dispatch her yourself."

He shuddered. No, he would not think about that. He would make her see reason, and she would join him, and she would be his.

"Yes, Supreme Leader. I will not fail you."

"See that you do not. We will begin tomorrow."

His heart was pounding in his chest, a bright happy feeling spreading through him. Rey would be his. The Supreme Leader had agreed.

"And now, my apprentice. There is still the issue of your disobedience."

He froze. Of course, he had broken the rules. There had to be punishment. It was only what he deserved.

It started in his teeth, a vibration he felt more than heard, expanding outward, into his sinuses, behind his eyeballs, until it was a high screech in his head, loud and shrill and vicious. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and a trembling started in his hands. He wanted to clutch his head and beg for it to stop, but he knew that would only prolong it, so he clenched his teeth and fists and endured.

A blurry image of Rey's eyes swam in front of his vision but he pushed it violently away.

The pressure came next, squeezing his windpipe until he was wheezing, struggling to remain upright on his knees. His vision narrowed, tunneled until all he could see was his master's face, cold and stony and unforgiving. Flashes of light burst behind his retinas, red and blue and purple, and were soon consumed by throbbing, pulsing darkness. He felt a slow, hot trickle from his nose and tasted iron as small blood vessels ruptured from the strain. The pressure spread, tightening like durasteel bands around his chest and then moving lower, like a kick in the groin but worse, crushing and wringing, a bright hot streak of pain shooting through his gut, bringing with it waves of nausea. Hot tears pricked at his eyes as he struggled not to vomit all over the chamber floor. All the while, the high shrieking sound grew louder until it drove every thought out of his head. He finally gave in, pressed his hands to his temples and screamed and collapsed on the stone floor.

He wasn't sure how long it took for him to recover, but he finally became aware of his surroundings again: the stone floor against his cheek, the sour smell of his sweat, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. And silence. Absolute silence. He was alone in the chamber.

He rose to his knees again, bracing himself with one hand as a final wave of dizziness made the walls spin and the floor seem to rise to meet him.

Rey. He would have Rey. He would devote himself to his training, drown himself in the dark side and master this new ability. Then they would be together, in every way. He would be able to feel her skin under his fingertips, suck her lips and nipples and clit, spread her long legs and plunge into her over and over until they were both nothing but throbbing, pulsing pleasure.

Even in his weakened state, he could feel himself growing hard at the thought.

* * *

I'm sure Snoke will be true to his word and let Kylo and Rey be together and live happily ever after in grandpa's castle and have lots of little dark side babies, right?

A million thanks to Perry Downing for being the best beta ever, not only turning this around in record time but also giving me a brilliant idea that let me get to the good part sooner. Thank you, and I hope you like the additions!

Thank you to everyone for the warm reception this story has received. I'm so thrilled that you like it! Reviews are bliss!


	3. Chapter 3 - Rey

**Rey**

It had been three weeks. Three miserable weeks.

Finn was there for her, just like he said he would be. He plied her with sweets and gossip, which she accepted with a faraway smile. He showed her articles about quitting death sticks on his holopad. Apparently, snapping an elastic band against one's wrist was supposed to help – she had no idea why. It didn't make her crave…anything…less, it just stung her tender skin. He told her he was proud of her and brought her fruit and protein bars and vitamin waters and sat with her while she stared at nothing.

He was the most steadfast of friends.

He tried to keep her entertained, playing sabacc and pazaak and dejarik with her, inviting others – Poe, Jess, Rose, Kaydel Ko, Pamich, Bastian, Snap – pilots and soldiers who laughed too loud and drank too much and had an easy camaraderie that she envied. They seemed to truly like her, and she laughed along at their silly jokes, listened to exotic alien music and pretended to understand it, and tasted her first ale, but always, always she was aware of the brooding presence in her mind.

She hated to admit it, but she was a little hurt that Kylo wasn't trying harder to get her to let him back in. His presence was distant and cold, a sullen heaviness in her mind. She had expected rage and begging, not silent sulking.

Well, it was a relief really. She didn't have to work so hard to block him. Her appetite picked back up and the rosy pinkness returned to her cheeks. Apparently, she had just been a bad habit for him too, she told herself, even as she felt like the Force itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to lose his tentative control.

It didn't take much.

An innocent touch from Finn brought him roaring back into her head. She had been hunched over a droid torso, soldering frayed wires back together for hours, and her neck and shoulders ached. She was in the common room twisting and stretching when Finn walked up behind her and started massaging her shoulders, his hands soft and warm and his voice soothing as he talked about techniques he had learned during physical therapy. She had relaxed, sighing, sagging against the back of the chair when she felt _him_ , pounding at her mind, relentless and demanding, jealousy raging like a wildfire.

At first her own anger spiked, fierce and independent and ready to defend her rights and her friend. But then emotions and a few words slipped through _…why…traitor…touching you…don't do that…your sigh…mine…only I get to…don't…please, if I can't touch you, please, no one else…_

It was that last part that got her. She let Finn massage her for another few seconds, then she slid out of the chair, making an excuse about needing the 'fresher.

After that, it was all she could do to keep him out. She strained to maintain her mental shields, and she managed to block him pretty well when she was awake. For when she slept, Finn (under the impression that it was withdrawal that was giving her nightmares) had taken her to Dr. Kalonia, to whom he had grown close during his own recovery, and gotten her sleep tabs that kept her dreams dull and muted. Kylo was growing more and more desperate. She could feel him crashing against her mind, demanding, pleading, threatening, begging.

It started to take a toll.

She was more irritable than she had ever been. She dragged herself to work in the maintenance shop, to training with Luke, doing things by rote. Her training stalled; even the simplest Force-related tasks, the ones she had mastered on Ahch-To, like stacking rocks, became a struggle. Meditation was a chore, the energy she sought seeming to recede from her the more she reached out for it.

She kept busy, working, training, socializing - anything to keep her mind occupied.

It wasn't helping.

And then one day she sensed a change, felt the strangest bright, soaring feeling from him – could it be hope? Happiness? She almost reached out, but she stopped herself. Then a few minutes later, pain, roaring, searing pain, a screaming inside her head. She was terrified.

 _Kylo? KYLO?_

She felt a flicker of acknowledgement, saw his eyes, large and dark, and then felt a very intentional shove, along with the clear implication that wherever he was, he didn't want her to feel it.

Well, fine. It wasn't like she was _worried_. Whatever it was, she was sure he could handle it. Still, she decided to excuse herself from that night's game of pazaak and take a walk around the lake. Maybe she could sense him without letting him in. Just to be sure he was still alive.

It was barely dawn on the Hyborean moon, the sun peeking over the horizon, painting the sky vibrant purples and blues and greens. A chill lingered in the air from the long lunar night, and her fingers and toes and the tip of her nose were soon numb. Stupid to have left without a jacket, but she still wasn't used to air being too cool. Steam rose from the lake, warm and inviting. It would feel so good, and Force, she was so tense, her muscles tight as the rudder linkage on an X-Wing.

She ducked behind an overgrown hedge and slipped out of her clothes, then stepped into the midnight-blue lake, sighing as she waded into the steaming water. Her fingers and toes tingled as feeling came back into them, and she crept out a little farther, her feet sinking into the dark sand at the bottom of the lake. She never went far from shore; she was still not really a swimmer, but she was no longer afraid of getting in the water, not since…

Damn.

Not since _that_ dream-that-was-more-than-a-dream, when he had joined her walking along the shore, his hand twined with hers. She had always wanted to get in the lake, she had told him. She had watched the others sometimes, splashing and frolicking or just floating and lounging. This had been quite the choice assignment in the days of the Empire, or so she had heard, largely because of these hot spring lakes. She wanted to see what it felt like to submerge herself in that liquid bliss, but she was afraid. The water was deep and dark and she feared she'd slip under and never come up.

"Well, it's time we remedy that," he had said, and had carefully peeled her clothes off – they were far past any modesty by that point - then shucked his own and led her into the water. She remembered how good it had felt, so hot, engulfing her, and how safe she had felt with her hand in his. They had walked out into the water until it was chest high, and he had shown her a few simple moves to keep herself afloat. They had splashed and giggled and he had been so _sweet_. Then he had found a large flat rock and sat on it, pulling her down between his legs, kissing along her shoulder, up the back of her neck; hot, tender kisses that made her melt against him, and then intensified until they were more bites than kisses, rough and possessive and thrilling. His hands found her breasts and kneaded them, his fingers rolling and pinching her nipples, one hand sliding down between her legs. She could feel his cock against her back, hard and hot as he circled his middle finger around her clit. She spread her legs wide for him, threw her head back against his chest and moaned as he slipped two of his long fingers inside her and started pumping them in and out, curling them just right to hit that one place that...

Present Rey realized she had her own hand between her legs, trying to mimic the feeling. It was better than nothing, but her hands were too small, and no one was kissing and biting that place where her neck curved into her shoulder. It would be so easy to let down her defenses and let him in, beg him to tell her all the things he would do to her, invite him to visit her dreams that night. Damn, she wanted to. But she didn't. Still, it was okay to remember. She leaned her head back against the rock and let her eyes close and moved her fingers up, rubbing them over her clit faster and faster as she lost herself to the memory.

Past Rey had turned around, then, so she was straddling him, and slid down on his cock. The water had washed away her wetness and it felt tight, burned a little, but she kept going, widening her knees, scraping them against the rock and clenching her teeth, their eyes locked. He had sensed it, felt that it hurt a little but that she liked that, and it fed his arousal.

His eyes bored into hers, his expression feral, his mouth a snarl.

"You want this?" he growled, with a jerk of his hips.

"Yeah," her voice came out with a grunt.

"Yes, what? What do you want?"

"Yes, please. I want to feel you all the way inside me. I want you to fuck up into me until it feels like I'm going to split in two. I want you. I want all of you," she gasped, eyes still on him, teeth bared, not sure if she wanted to kiss him or bite him.

He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down as he snapped his hips up, making her see sparks behind her eyes with every thrust. She grabbed a huge handful of his hair and pulled, making him cry out and slam into her harder, the water sloshing around them, hands slipping on the rock. "Time to stop playing," he hissed, reluctantly lifting her off and standing. "Where can we go?"

"There," she pointed to a ruined lake house. He scooped her up and carried her up the path.

As soon as they were inside the walls he had her on the floor – or what was left of it – and he dropped to his knees in front of her, a hand on each ankle, lifting her legs and spreading them wide, plunging his tongue inside her, thrusting it in deep. She was whimpering and writhing as he moved up, attacking her clit with fast, relentless strokes. She wanted to put her feet down, get some traction so she could thrust against him, but he wouldn't let her. His hands gripped her ankles tightly, his arms were like durasteel holding her legs up and apart as he sucked and licked, and then he did that thing with his tongue that made her mind go blank. She dug her fingers into the dirt, arched her back and shoved herself closer to his face. Her legs were quivering and she was pulsing from the inside out, screaming and clawing at the dirt with wet hands until she felt that explosion, that release that she had only ever found with him.

Sometimes he was patient and kept up his attentions, wringing another orgasm out of her, but that time he had been too ready, and he had crawled up her body, both of them still slick with lake water, and slammed into her while she was still shaking from the aftershocks. He had grabbed both her hands, caked with dirt and mud, with one of his and caged them over her head, while he had pounded her into the ground, pebbles and rubble poking her in the back, water dripping off his hair and into her face. She dug her heels into the mud and slammed her hips up, meeting his thrusts with her own, both of them driving each other harder and harder to keep up the relentless pace. His face was red, contorted, teeth clenched, one hand braced on the ground and the other still trapping her hands above her head until he gave a hard thrust that she felt hit something deep inside. Her muscles contracted, almost pushing him out, but he jerked his hips back again and slammed into her even harder. She screamed and clenched around him and he roared his release, staying pressed tight against her until it was over.

He had collapsed on top of her, then, both of them panting and limp. Once his breathing slowed, he had rolled off, settling himself on his side so he could look at her, devouring her with his eyes. Then he had pressed soft molten kisses on her temple and down along her cheek and jaw with such delicate sweetness it was hard to believe he was the same man who had just fucked her senseless in the mud.

Present day Rey cried out, a weak, empty sound as she came, a shadow of the pleasure he gave her, and then sagged against the rock, feeling terribly alone.

 _I've missed you too_ , his voice whispered, and then he was gone.

She scrambled out of the water and wiped herself dry as best she could, wrestling her clothes on over her damp skin and running back to the safety of the prison walls.

After that, he didn't beat at her mental walls like he had before. She felt him, but he was shielded, hidden in a fog of darkness that frightened her far more than his raging ever had. She kept him locked out tight, and refused to acknowledge that the hot tears welling in her eyes at night were because she wanted him.

Another lunar day – half a month – passed. He was still distant, veiled in darkness.

She was on the flight line, changing the oil in a series of X-Wings. It was one of the simplest tasks around. But she was growing more and more exasperated. As she moved to safety-wire the oil filter on the latest ship, she jammed the wire into her thumb. She yelped at the sharp pain, and shoved her throbbing, bleeding thumb in her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes, partially from the pain and partially from frustration.

She didn't realize she had let her guard slip, but she had, just a little. It was enough.

 _Rey. What's wrong? Are you hurt? Who hurt you? I'll kill them._

She sighed. She hated to admit to herself how glad she was to hear his voice. _I'm fine. I did it myself – jammed some safety wire in my thumb._

 _Rey. My Rey. Why have you shut me out?_

 _This…what we were doing…it isn't healthy._

 _Denying it isn't healthy. I've been going mad._ He paused, suddenly unsure _. Haven't you?_

 _Yes._

 _I need you. Please. I have to have you._

She thought for a second. Maybe, just once…she dropped her tools and ran out of the hangar, outside past the flight line, and down a track away from the crowded part of the base. She ducked into an ammo storage shed and locked the door. _Okay. Just this once._

 _You know I want more…_

 _This is all I'll give you._

He groaned.

She knew he would take it, take the crumbs she was willing to let him have. She felt a little bad about that, but also…powerful. Some part of her that she preferred not to acknowledge got off on having Kylo Ren, scourge of the galaxy, able to make armies tremble, begging and groveling for her affection.

She leaned against a stack of crates. Daylight – it was nearing lunar sunset - filtered in at a sharp angle through high, slatted vents in the shed's walls, and dust motes floated in the stale air.

 _Touch yourself,_ she instructed, and she knew he did, felt his hand stroking his cock, felt his arousal spike. She plunged her uninjured hand inside her pants. She was already embarrassingly wet. _Tell me what you'd do to me if you were here,_ she whispered into his mind.

The light flickered and shifted, shadows coalescing into a column of darkness, until a familiar figure stood before her. "I don't have to. I can show you."

Her eyes widened, and she jerked her hand out of her pants. "How…"

His lips quirked up in a hint of a half-smile. "I've been training."

She reached out her other hand, a drop of blood collecting on her thumb, expecting him to be incorporeal, an illusion. But he was warm and solid and real. "You're…"

"Oh, I can assure you I'm really here. Force travel, it's called. Creates a rift in space, in the Force itself. A technique that draws deeply from the dark side. Quite difficult and corrupting…unnatural. But you left me no choice. I could not go on without you."

She just blinked, opening and closing her mouth. He took a step closer, then another, and she felt arousal mixed with a frisson of fear. Darkness rolled off him in waves, terrifying and intoxicating.

He reached up, touched her cheek. It sent shivers down her spine, shivers that settled between her legs and made her ache. She gave a little whimper. She had put her bleeding thumb back in her mouth. He pulled it out, ran his own thumb over it, wiping away a drop of blood. It glistened in the dim light. He brought his thumb to his mouth, sucked the blood off, and smiled, just briefly, before he leaned in and attacked her lips, kissing her hard, his mouth demanding, his tongue sliding between her lips, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her back, pressing his body against hers in a way that felt like they were made to fit together. He kissed her until she was dizzy and clinging to him. She could let him kiss her forever, and she whined her disappointment when he pulled away.

"Why did you stop?"

"Force travel is…draining. You'll see," he said.

She furrowed her brow. "You learned that just so you could…see me?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, and gave a sad sort of smile. "Oh, my love. No. To be allowed to learn such a technique, there had to be a larger purpose." His arms tightened around her.

Alarm registered in her mind, but only for a second before everything went black.

* * *

Safety wire is from the devil. It's also a totally necessary evil, but…sharp!

Force travel was a real thing in the old EU, and it's listed under Force powers, and there's nothing saying it _can't_ exist in current canon. And it was perfect for this story. It allowed a user to travel great distances instantly by creating a momentary rift in space. It caused the user to be corrupted by the dark side, as it broke the normal rules of the galaxy by ripping the Force apart. It became more corrupting to use depending both on how far away the target was, as well as how familiar the Force-user was with the location (Wookiepedia).

A million thanks to Perry Downing for being such an awesome beta, and for such a quick turn-around! Your comments made me laugh so hard, and as always brightened my day. Thank you!

Next chapter, a romantic getaway to Grandpa's Mustafar lovenest, err, stronghold. I've wanted to use that as a setting for a dark Reylo story since I saw Rogue One. It's just too perfect!

Hope you liked this chapter, and if so, reviews make my day (or night)! I love you all, and am ever grateful that you give my stories a bit of your time and attention. I hope reading them is as much fun for you as writing them is for me. This is my escape from reality, and wow do I need it this week!


	4. Chapter 4 - Mustafar

KYLO

Drained. That's how he felt; his limbs heavy, his bones liquefied. He barely had the strength to stand long enough to deposit Rey on the bed before his knees buckled and he collapsed, kneecaps hitting the floor, head slumped forward, fingers digging into the thick pile of the rug beneath him.

This had been so much harder than when he was learning Force travel, and that had been…harrowing. Not so much the travel itself but the preparation, the need to immerse himself in the dark side, to harness his anger and his fear…it was mostly fear that his master had focused on when he rebelled against the tasks set before him, when he questioned the necessity of what felt like senseless cruelty, digging through his mind to find what frightened him most, then showing him visions of Rey, in the arms of another - the traitor, or the pilot, or sometimes both of them together, slick with sweat, doing every imaginable thing to his precious Rey's perfect body. And then he saw her face, that look of bliss that should only be for him…

 _She's a lonely girl, she needs to be loved, she needs someone who will be there for her. Do you really think she'll keep herself for you, when there are so many, warm and willing and present, to love her…_

Another vision: she was broken and bleeding in the midst of some battle, ripped to shreds by blaster fire, dying - with someone else's name on her lips.

No, he would not allow that to happen. He would do whatever it took to perfect this skill, and he would find her, bring her to his side and show her that _that_ was where she belonged. He would be her teacher, her master, and she would be his…everything, and in time, _in time_ she would understand that perhaps the dark side was brutal, but the brutality had a purpose, that it was worth it to make the ultimate sacrifice; to do the unthinkable, the despicable, to be despised for doing what was necessary. In time she would see, and they would rule, together. Together.

So he did exactly as his master instructed to strengthen his connection to the dark side; only through perfect obedience could he hope to learn what he needed, Snoke told him. Perfect, unquestioning obedience. He wasn't allowed to try to reach her through the bond, or let her reach him. He was only allowed minimal sleep and food, and no pleasure, not even the grim relief his hand could have brought. There were only tasks to be completed, endless and cruel. He complied, even as the light still inside him rebelled, even as his mind recoiled at what was required of him. Prisoners, soldiers, spies, suspected traitors – he interrogated them, painfully, viciously, finding what little information they had and then, well, then they were no longer of any value. He took no pleasure in it, was never sadistic. A clenched fist, a flick of the wrist. Simple, clean, quick.

They would have died anyway. What difference did it make if he did it instead of a Stormtrooper firing squad?

Still, he wondered, was it truly necessary? Wasn't he ready? Hadn't he dwelt long enough in the darkness to be allowed to learn?

His doubts were met with a nightmare vision of Rey bent over behind an X-Wing as some faceless Resistance pilot rutted into her _. It could be happening right now, you could be too late…_ Rage and terror coursed through his veins at the Snoke's suggestion.

He shoved his misgivings away, reached out to the darkest currents of the Force, pulled them to him, wrapped himself in them, drowned himself in their seductive, numbing embrace. He would do what had to be done; he wouldn't doubt his master again.

He went to his grandfather's fortress on Mustafar and meditated deep in the ancient Sith cave below the castle, letting the darkness that seeped out of the depths of the planet infuse him, shivering with cold despite the searing heat of the lava as the dark side enveloped him.

Villages, temples, suspected rebel outposts, razed, burned, obliterated. Nothing left but dust and ash. He felt nothing, _nothing_ as he walked away.

Finally, he was deemed ready to practice the technique that ripped a hole through the Force and allowed him to move through space with only a thought, leaving behind a trail of darkness, a scar in the Force, in his psyche. Worth it, all worth it to get to her before she let someone else touch her, kiss her, make her fall apart with pleasure. Worth it to have her by his side.

At first he had Force traveled to places he knew, places he had been – Endor, Tatooine. It got easier with time, as did the…preparations. He no longer saw the faces of those he interrogated and dispatched. He only saw her face, tears welling out of her eyes, dripping down her cheeks at the thought that he had forgotten her, as she turned that beautiful, glowing smile toward the traitor as he reached for her hand and led her to his room.

 _She probably thinks you've forgotten her, left her; she'll find someone who will stay. She probably already has._

Rage ripped through him as his master whispered in his head, and he ignited his lightsaber, slashing at whatever was near. He would prove himself to her, prove he would never forget her, never leave her, prove that he would do anything, _anything_ to have her. And if anyone had touched her, he'd kill them.

He knelt before the holoprojector. "I'm ready," he told his master.

"Good. Goooood." Something that might have once been a smile spread over Snoke's face. "Take her to Mustafar. Do as you will. And at the end of a standard lunar cycle, _bring her to me."_

Kylo shuddered, steeled himself and closed his eyes, focusing on his objective with single-minded concentration. She was still blocking him, but he knew she would falter eventually, and he could be patient. He could be so patient. He didn't know how long he waited, lost in dark concentration, until he felt it, a spike of pain through the bond, an opening…and once he knew she wasn't truly injured, that no one had hurt her, he knew it was time. He followed the bond, his only destination: _Rey_. He clawed his way through the Force, surrounded by darkness, pulling himself along that connection with vicious desperation. It took every shred of his power, but then he was there, he was with her, he could smell her – the scorched smell of starship oil, the warm, baking-bread scent of her skin, the sharp, metallic tang of her blood, where she had jammed safety wire into her thumb; he could touch her, taste her - her lips, warm and soft and open for him, and Force she was delicious. But he was weak, he felt his energy failing, and he had to return, bringing her with him, and that was a different challenge. Even unconscious, her Force presence was strong, vibrant, and it fought against the pull of the darkness that dragged them through space to Mustafar.

When they arrived, he was spent.

He leaned his head against the side of the bed and breathed in and out, waiting for his strength to return. Finally he was able to lift his eyes enough to see her. Rey. His beautiful, perfect girl, finally here with him. His eyes roved over her face, took in the little tendrils of hair curling around her ears, the spattering of freckles across her adorable tipped-up nose, the delicate bluish tint of her closed eyelids, her dark sweeping eyelashes. His gaze lingered on her lips, slightly parted and perfectly pink, like flower petals. He trailed his eyes down her body, feeling a wave of arousal at the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her tunic. He couldn't believe she was here, lying in his bed – not the hard bunk on the Finalizer, but the sumptuous, regal bed in his personal chambers in his personal abode.

He wondered if it had been too bold to bring her directly to his bed, but he didn't care. After all they had done in dreams and across the bond…

No. He didn't think she would be angry about that.

About being taken, well, that was a different matter.

He settled back on his heels in the corner to watch and wait until she woke up.

* * *

REY

Consciousness came back with a jolt, just like last time. She was totally out, then totally alert. There were no bright lights this time, just a dim, flickering red glow. There was no metal pressing against her back. She felt plush fabric under her fingertips, a soft mattress beneath her body, a cloudlike pillow cushioning her head. There was one thing that was the same, though; the familiar figure crouching in the darkness of the corner. She didn't need to see him; she could feel him, sense him, taste him on her tongue even at a distance. She knew she should be frightened, or furious, or both; she was, really, but for now the anger and fear were drowned out by something stronger and more demanding. Something that insisted on being satisfied. Whether it was the bond or just lust, she wasn't sure, but it was pulsing through her like fire, burning like the lava she saw out the narrow window.

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Where am I? And _don't_ say I'm your guest."

"Mustafar."

She raised an eyebrow.

He stood. "This was my grandfather's stronghold. Built at the direction of the first galactic Emperor. It sits on the remains of a Sith temple. The dark side is strong here."

She nodded. She could feel it, cold tendrils caressing her skin, despite the scorching heat of the planet.

She sucked in a breath and lifted a hand. "No restraints this time?"

He stepped closer to the bed, his Force presence swirling around, reaching out for her. "I didn't feel that would be necessary. Unless you prefer…?"

The fire in her veins settled between her thighs. The corner of her mouth curved up. "Maybe later," she said, her voice low. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared and satisfaction flowed through her.

She ran her hand over the deep carmine velvet bedding, took in the ornate carved black headboard and bedposts hung with drapings the color of blood. "And more specifically? Is this your room? Your bed?"

He swallowed hard. "Is that…alright?"

She nodded and held out her hand, beckoning.

He took her hand, his gloves already discarded, and closed his eyes, a look of near-bliss on his face at the skin to skin contact.

She mirrored his expression, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of his hand engulfing hers, so large and warm, rough in places, but so soft in others. Touching through the bond had been pure pleasure, but this was so much more intense, almost like electricity was sparking between them.

She felt the bed dip as he sat, looming over her, so close, so…intoxicating.

She looked at him and gasped, sitting up, her hand touching his cheek. "Kylo. Kylo what have you done? Your…your eyes…"

"Oh Rey," he said, his voice hoarse and choked. He looked down, his long dark lashes fluttering over his eyes, which were glowing yellow. "The Force travel. It…corrupts. Rips a hole in the Force. The dark side lingers. Surely you feel it too?"

She did. The darkness wasn't just swirling around her; it was in her too, intensifying her emotions.

"Will they stay that way?"

"No. It fades, with time."

"You…you said there was…some larger purpose. What…"

He placed a finger on her lips. "Later," he whispered. "Right now, just let me look at you. Touch you. Taste you."

She nodded. "You know you're going to have a lot of explaining to do later. And that I'm probably going to be really angry?"

He gave a small smile. "Yes."

"Then why…"

"I had to. I had to find you, have you with me. Before…before you found someone else. Before you…"

Rage, quick and fierce, flashed through her. "That's what you think of me? That I would just…just find another warm body? That I just wanted someone to fuck?" She snarled.

Confusion flickered over his face; no, of course he didn't think that about her – except he had, why had he…but the darkness was too strong for reason to break through. "You rejected me. Banished me. I had to show you that you're meant to be with me. That you're mine. _Mine_."

His lips were on hers in an instant, hard and hot, pressing her mouth open, his tongue plunging inside, finding her own. She reached a hand up and coiled it in his hair, pulling hard, pulling him on top of her. He moaned into her mouth and she growled and yanked his head back so she could see his eyes. Those flashing yellow eyes. "You think I want someone else? All I want is you. I feel you in my sleep, your mouth, your hands, your cock. I wake up wet and whimpering I need you so much. But…we're on different sides in a war. It was wrong. It was treason. But I still wanted it. Wanted you. Want you, even now, when you've…you've done this, taken me, embraced the darkness so fully. I should want to kill you but I just want to feel you inside me, I want your hands on my body and your tongue…that wicked tongue, I want it everywhere."

He was shaking, quivering, his eyes flashing molten gold as he hovered over her. She could tell that his control was precarious at best. She should have tried to calm him, talk him down, but that wasn't what she wanted, what the dark coils of the Force pulsing through her wanted. "You said you wanted to show me I was yours." Her eyes met his, challenging, demanding. Her lip curled up in a sneer. "So show me," she spit out.

He was panting, his teeth bared; she could feel his hot breath on her face. His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips to her chest, tracing over the thin fabric barely containing her breasts. She could almost physically feel his stare. His lips curled up in a smirk and he slid his hands up her shoulders, grasping the fabric of her shirt and ripping it to expose her bare breasts, attacking them with his hands and mouth, sucking on one nipple while he kneaded the other between his fingers. She arched her back and moaned, her own small hands tugging at his clothing – so thick, so many layers. Sensing her thoughts, he stopped, removed several layers until his chest was bare.

There was nothing now but skin and tongues and sensation, and she knew her moans were growing louder, and that the way she was rubbing against his leg was lewd and frantic. She didn't care, didn't care how desperate she sounded, or how intensely furious she was with him for abducting her, _again_ , even though this was nothing like that, this was no interrogation room, but his private chambers in his personal residence, softly lit and darkly inviting. It had been too long and now he was here, physically here, smelling like fire and metal and space and driving her mad with desire.

He slowed, sat up on his knees, his eyes boring into hers, and slowly, very slowly, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her leggings and slid them over her legs, leaving her laying there in nothing but her thin white undergarment. He reached down and undid his trousers. Her breath was coming fast now, and her eyes slid down, down to watch as he freed his erection. She bit her bottom lip, watching, practically drooling.

The bond was pulsing with anticipation of the impending physical connection.

He ran a finger over her hipbone, slid it beneath the elastic of her underthings and yanked them down over her thighs, her knees, one ankle, leaving them dangling from one foot, no longer bothered by them since they were out of the way.

He stopped, suddenly unsure. They had done…everything…in dreams, through the bond, but that wasn't the same as this, as real physical contact. "Do…do I need to be…careful?"

She knew what he was asking, and shook her head, too far gone for words. She felt anger surge through him and she drew her brows together. "Do I?" she snarled.

He frowned. "Why would you think…"

"Why would you?"

"You're…young."

"Not that young."

She felt his anger surge into a black rage. "Who? I'll kill him."

She glared at him. "I had a life before I met you. And maybe stop letting murder be your go-to reaction. How would you feel if I threatened to kill everyone who had ever touched you?"

He was silent.

"What? You…you'd like it, wouldn't you? It would turn you on."

"There is no one for me but you. And no one but me for you. Anyone who came before…they should not exist."

She searched his face, let herself dip into his mind, sample his feelings, and was satisfied with what she found there. Not judgement, but clawing, possessive need and…shame, guilt for what he had done before. She touched his cheek. "It doesn't matter what happened before. All that matters is now. I'm yours _now_." She dropped her legs open for him.

"You're right. Only now matters. No one else, ever again. Or I _will_ kill them."

She knew that should be disturbing, but instead it stroked the liquid fire inside of her.

He slid his hand between her folds, groaning. "You're so wet."

She was; she wanted him now, before she had time to be angry, before logic returned. She needed this, needed him.

He slid one long finger inside her, then another, and she threw her head back and cried out. She had never felt anything like this, not with anyone else and not even in their dream-visits…it felt so good, but it also felt like there was an itch deep inside her that only he could scratch. She was moving her hips as he finger-fucked her, gasping and moaning, their eyes locked.

He let out a strangled moan. "Rey. I need you now. I've been patient, waited, denied myself so I could have you here with me and I can't be patient any longer. Later, later we'll take our time but, Rey, please," he said, his voice a low growl as he pulled his fingers away and grasped his cock, sliding it along her folds. With his other hand he gripped her thigh, pressing it up and to the side, spreading her legs wider.

"Yes. Now, now, now," She begged, embarrassed that she was such a whimpering mess underneath him, but also not caring. That itch deep inside was getting worse.

He pulled back and then plunged into her in one swift movement, making her scream and grab the bedding and thrust up against him and then he was pounding into her and she was thrusting up to meet him, hard and fast and desperate, their hands clawing at one another, their tongues licking and teeth nipping, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pressed them apart so he could thrust deeper and deeper until he hit just the right spot. Her muscles contracted around his cock and she threw her head back, letting out a keening wail as he slammed into her even harder, grimaced and roared and spilled inside her.

They were both panting, sweaty and exhausted and floating on a wave of pleasure that drove everything else, even the icy tendrils of darkness, away.

He pulled her closer, cradled her against his chest and stroked her back, tugged the bedding over them to form a cozy little cocoon, his eyes morphing back to smoldering deep brown as her body melted against his.

"You know I'm going to escape in the morning," she said, her voice low and languid.

"I would be disappointed if you did not try," he said, hand tracing small circles on her back as she drifted to sleep, warm and snug against his chest.

* * *

Not too many notes this time. They're in Vader's Mustafar castle now and I couldn't be more excited! Next chapter we'll get to see more of it as reason returns to Rey and she explores and tries to find a way out, and Kylo finds out that he's going to have some serious explaining (and wooing) to do.

They both have some past experience in this one, but as they'll find out, it wasn't exactly hearts and flowers for either one of them. They both need so much healing.

A million thanks to Perry Downing for the super fast beta and the awesome comments – I'm so glad you liked it, and the bits you mentioned were some of my favorites too! Thank you dear!

I'm beyond excited to be back to writing – real life has been crazy recently and I've missed this, and you, my readers, so much. The next chapter is already in my head, now I just have to find the time to type it, so hopefully there'll be an update soon! Comments are love, and I cherish every one of them!


	5. Chapter 5 - Morning

Yes, I'm back after a long stretch of writer's block! I ended up having to split this chapter because it got so long. I've got the next part mostly written too, so should be able to update soon (for once!).

* * *

KYLO

He woke up alone. She was gone. _Gone gone gone._ Anxiety zipped through his veins, sharp and acidic. But then he remembered: This was Darth Vader's fortress. Being impossible to escape, even for very resourceful Force-users, had been, well, sort of the point. There was only one entrance, and he had sealed it with the Force so that only he could open it. The windows were high and narrow, the walls sheer polished obsidian, the base encircled by a moat of lava. A specially-trained battalion of Stormtroopers patrolled the perimeter and the hangar (that he had made sure currently housed no ships), and the Sith cave beneath the castle – well, that didn't need to be guarded by anything _living_.

Not that he meant to treat her like a prisoner; if she would only allow it, he would treat her like a queen. It was for her that he had brought in cooks and real food instead of rations, had the unused great hall opened and cleaned, fully powered up the lights and climate control system. He wanted her to be comfortable for the time she was here. He pushed down the knowledge that their time here was short – that he had been given thirty standard days to turn her or...no, he wouldn't think about that. He imagined her living here always, his beautiful dark queen. It was a delusion, of course. Even if he could convince her to join him, he wouldn't be allowed to keep her here. He wasn't sure if he'd be allowed to keep her at all, and that sent another jolt of fear through his veins.

No, he wouldn't let his thoughts go down that path. He _would_ convince her that she should be with him, by his side, and when his master saw how powerful they were together, surely he would realize what an asset they would make as a team. He pushed down the gnawing doubts in his gut and reached out for the bond; it had grown so much stronger now that they were together. He steadied his breathing; yes, there she was, moving stealthily through the darkness of the ventilation ducts.

He exhaled. He would indulge her, let her explore. Satisfy her need to try to escape. And then she would return to him.

The pillow beside him still smelled like her. A ghost of a smile tickled his lips. He was naked under the covers. He stretched, savoring the memory of sleeping curled around her body, pressed together, skin-to-skin. That, he had never done before, and it felt impossibly intimate and vulnerable. He would have liked to wake up with her in his arms, warm and groggy, would have liked to rouse her with soft kisses that quickly grew in intensity, his hands sliding down her body, stoking her desire until she was slick and ready…

Ah, well, there would be other mornings.

He stood, shrugging into a robe.

The small amount of dim light that filtered through the thick clouds that shrouded the planet, and the constant reddish glow from the river of lava below, illuminated his chamber enough that he could follow Rey's trail through the room.

Her thin oatmeal-colored tunic lay crumpled and discarded on the floor, ripped down the front and unusable. He bent and retrieved it, stroking the coarse cloth over his cheek. She should be wearing Cyrene silk or embroidered velvet, not this cheap uniform fabric. He held it to his face and inhaled. The drawers in the massive carved dresser across the room had been rummaged through; apparently she had pilfered a tunic. He smiled, imagining her in his shirt.

Her leggings and boots were missing, so she must have put them back on. His gaze moved across the room, to where a chair had been dragged underneath a ceiling grate. The grate hung open, still swinging gently on its hinges.

 _You could have just used the door. It isn't locked._ He projected the thought, and was rewarded by an annoyed huff, and the feeling of cobwebs tickling his nose.

 _If you wish to see the castle, I'd be glad to give you a tour._

 _Don't try to be charming. I'm mad at you. And I don't want a tour. I'm escaping._ Her tone was less harsh than her words.

His lips twitched up in a half smile. _As you wish. Feel free to use the hallways - unless you prefer crawling through the ducts. You have free access to the castle and my staff has been advised to see to any needs you might have._

 _What if one of my 'needs' is to leave?_

 _Ah, well, any needs except that, love._

A little growl floated through his brain and he chuckled, selecting a pair of loose black trousers and an undertunic to wear. He had things to do, preparations to make.

She had abandoned the dusty, sweltering vents and was prowling along the hallways looking for an escape route. He followed her progress while he took a bracing, cool shower. Even with modern climate control, the air in the castle had a close, stifling quality. Cool water soothed and refreshed. He couldn't wait to show Rey the enormous bathtub in the corner. It was round, carved from smooth black stone, and deep enough to fully submerge himself. She would be able to practically swim in it.

This room had been the Imperial Suite, according to Vaneé, the ancient caretaker. It was Snoke who had sent Kylo to Mustafar to find the castle, told him it was rightfully his, but when he arrived, he had been greeted by Vaneé, stooped and withered with age, but still maintaining the fortress in service to a long-dead master. Vaneé had served Vader personally; had _known_ him, and was still deeply loyal to his former master; he spoke about Vader rarely, and even then, his voice was hushed and his replies circumspect, as if he feared revealing the Sith Lord's secrets even decades after his death. It was Vaneé who suggested Kylo take the Imperial Suite as his personal quarters; Vader's suite contained a bacta tank and a rejuvenation chamber but no bed or regular refresher; it was stark and sterile and contained no creature comforts. Emperor Palpatine, however, had visited frequently, and _his_ suite was the epitome of opulence, Vaneé had explained. Kylo got the feeling the attendant felt that Vader's rooms should be left undisturbed, and, having visited them, he tended to agree. There was a pervasive feeling of doom there, a bleakness that made Kylo's skin itch. Kylo had readily agreed to take the Imperial Suite; the Emperor's presence did not seem to linger as Vader's did, and Snoke did not travel to meet with his apprentice and wouldn't need it.

REY

After Kylo told her she could roam freely and would not be bothered, Rey found the next ventilation grate, kicked it open and dropped through, landing gracefully on her feet, dropping into a crouch, turning and scanning the dim room she had landed in. It was empty, and by the looks of it, had been for a very long time. A high narrow window admitted a sliver of faint, ruddy light. The room seemed to be some sort of military quarters. It was small, utilitarian, containing only a single bedframe with a thin mattress and one pillow, a dark gray blanket – faded and dusty - folded on the end, and a small side table with three drawers. She opened the drawers; they were empty except for a black plastoid comb, which she pocketed. The rest of the room was just as bare. Nothing useful here. She pressed the door controls and the door slid open with a creak of protest. Peering out into the hallway, she saw a row of doors just like this one.

 _That's the guest wing. It was used when officers or Imperial officials needed to meet here. It hasn't been occupied for decades._

 _I can tell_ , she replied, running a finger over a dusty control console set into a niche in the wall.

She hadn't even had to ask. The bond was stronger now, she felt it, pulsing between them, thoughts flowing like the lava beneath the castle. She felt cool water and smelled soap. He was showering, and now she was picturing him nude, wet, head tipped back as water soaked into his hair, his fingers running through the thick black strands, the spray sluicing over his shoulders, down his chest, over his abdomen, down...

Oh, kriff.

She knew her underwear was wet; she knew he knew it. _Stop distracting me!_

 _I'm just trying to bathe, you're the one picturing me naked._

She frowned and, with more difficulty than she had expected, managed to push him out of her thoughts, although she still felt his presence at the back of her mind, felt a humming tension as the connection stretched out like a tether on a ship, constantly straining to reel her back in. She smacked the control panel on the next door, stepping into a room that was identical to the previous one. She made quick work of ransacking it and the other eight along the passageway, along with a communal refresher, with little to show for it. The comb, a handkerchief, an Imperial ration pack that contained three strips of dehydrated meat, two pazaak cards that had fallen under a bed, a single hairpin, a sliver of soap and, the best find, a dark gray gaberwool command cap. She tucked each find into her pocket, except the cap, which she placed on her head, and the dried meat, which she was gnawing on now as she opened the last door, the one at the end of the hallway. This room was a bit bigger, with a private 'fresher, a wider bed with two pillows, a desk and chair, and a larger window. She dragged the desk under the window, sat the chair on top of it, and climbed up. The window was made of thick plastisteel, the kind used in ships. Impenetrable. She placed a hand against it; despite its thickness it was warm to the touch, the planet's heat seeping through. It had a wide ledge that was just the right size for her to sit on, so she did, tucking one foot underneath her. She chewed the desiccated meat and looked out at the landscape. Rivers of lava, glowing red and orange, flowed around black stone. Smoke and steam rose to meet the thick layer of dark gray clouds that obscured the sky. There was an oppressive heaviness that seemed to press down on her, but also a harsh beauty to this world of fire.

She climbed down from the ledge, stashed her meager treasures under the mattress on the bed, stepped into the 'fresher and tried the sink. It worked. She leaned down, putting her lips close to the faucet, and drank, loud slurping sounds echoing through the room. The water was warm and tasted metallic, but she wasn't one to complain about the quality of water – she was just glad to have some. Hunger and thirst satisfied, she went back out into the hallway. There was no way to escape from this level or the one above, which contained Kylo's rooms, so when she came to a winding stairway, she decided to go down. A door opened to the next level, which housed a small antechamber with two sets of durasteel double doors. One set opened onto a long dark hallway; the other set opened to a single large room that appeared to have once been some sort of medbay – a large bacta tank (empty) sat in the middle of the space, surrounded by other vaguely medical-looking contraptions she didn't recognize. There were no windows, and although a medbay could have contained any number of things that might have served as useful weapons, she had no desire to explore this room. There was something about it that felt suffocating; something worse than the dark side energy that permeated this place – a sense of futility that leached away all her motivation. She was afraid that if she stayed there very long it would suck every bit of hope right out of her. She backed away, taking in deep lungfuls of air once she was back in the stairwell.

Continuing, she found a large, modern hangar with round landing pads, softly pulsing lights, ranks of storage lockers and bins that she knew would contain tools – and a squadron of Stormtroopers. They leapt to attention when she opened the door, blasters raised then lowered. She froze. One of the troopers stepped forward and saluted. "My lady. Is there anything we can assist you with?"

She blinked at him. "Ahhh…no? I was just…looking around? You…know who I am?"

The trooper nodded. "Of course, my lady. We have been informed of your residence here, and have been told to serve you, as we do Lord Ren."

She narrowed her eyes. My lady? Who exactly had Kylo told them she was? "Yeah? Well, in that case I'd like a ship, with a working hyperdrive, fully fueled and ready to pre-flight as soon as possible."

The trooper waved a hand toward the empty hangar. "My apologies my lady, but as you see, we have no ships available."

She pressed her lips together. "How convenient." She sighed and gave a small smile, then her face took on a placid expression. "You will step aside and let me pick through the tools here for potential weapons," she said, voice low and lulling.

The trooper tilted his head almost regrettfully. "I'm afraid that won't work, my lady. We were all specially selected for this duty because we have stronger minds than most troopers, and then we were further trained to resist the Jedi mind trick."

"Right. Well. Thought I'd give it a go." She bit her lip. Trained to resist how, she wondered. She doubted she'd like the answer. "I'll just…" She jerked her thumb at the door, turned and made her way back down the wide main hallway, black duratseel walls decorated with strange geometric patterns towering over her.

Through another set of double doors, she found a great hall with a long table of highly polished black stone. Flags of the Empire and the First Order, as well as ornate banners in a language she didn't recognize but that felt very, very old, hung on the walls between long, narrow windows. The red light that seemed to be a constant on this world slanted in through the windows, making the table glow. High-backed durasteel chairs, decorated with the same geometric pattern as the walls in the corridor, and upholstered with thick brocade the color of blood, flanked the table. What appeared to be ancient Sith artifacts sat in glowing niches alongside quietly humming consoles, making the room a bizarre blend of the ancient and modern.

More interesting to Rey, though, were the scents wafting through the air. Something smelled wonderful – like roasting meat and exotic spices and something rich and sweet. It made her stomach growl and her mouth water and she realized she had no idea how long she had been exploring. The light here never changed, the constant rosy twilight giving no indication of the passage of time, but she knew many hours must have passed since she ate the three sticks of dried meat in the old ration-pack, and she suddenly realized she was really hungry. The good smells seemed to be coming through a small door in the back of the room. Pressing the controls she saw that it opened into a large professional-looking kitchen, all gleaming durasteel and oversized stock pots, where three Mustafarians and two food preparation droids were working, preparing multiple dishes. They all looked up, then dipped their heads in small bows. "May we be of service, my lady?" one of the droids asked.

Rey sighed. So the kitchen was politely guarded too. She looked around, spotted something she recognized – scrubroots. The long, thin root vegetables grew sparsely on Jakku, and she had always been excited to find a small patch of them in the shade of a crashed ship or behind a rock. "Uh, can I have one of those?" The closest Mustafarian smiled, gave a small nod and handed her one.

"You are welcome to anything you like, my lady," the droid who had spoken first, and who seemed to be in charge of the kitchen, said. "However, not much is done yet."

"Thanks. Thank you." Rey took a large bite of the scrubroot and walked out of the kitchen, munching on it. It tasted fresh and sharp, almost spicy, and she savored the way it crunched between her teeth as she nibbled at it. She sighed, ran her fingers along the gleaming surface of the table. Escaping from this place was going to be harder than she had expected. It was looking like she would be here at least another night, and that brought a whole new set of problems. Last night…she didn't regret it. Not at all. She had needed it, wanted it as much as he had. Whatever this thing between them was, it was impossible to deny. It wasn't just the Force, although that certainly made it stronger. She knew enough to know that, whatever mystical weirdness might be going on, there was also a huge component of plain old physical attraction, plus something more, something indefinable and a little scary. Scarier than the dark side, which suffused this place like a shadowy mist. And she wasn't sure she could resist it, especially here, where every emotion seemed heightened. But that meant _every_ emotion, including anger, and she _was_ angry. He had kidnapped her, _again_. He was holding her prisoner, even if he was doing so oh-so-politely. She had no intention of just letting that go because her body wanted his. If he thought he could just bring her here and expect her to sleep in his bed and be his – consort, or whatever, he was in for a shock.

"My lady," a voice said, practically in her ear.

She jumped, whirled, dropped into a fighting stance on instinct. The owner of the voice was an ancient man in loose, shabby black robes. She wondered how he had managed to sneak up on her. She hadn't sensed his presence at all, not even a ripple in the Force.

"My apologies for startling you, Lady Rey." His voice was thin and creaky, like a rusted hinge.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She snapped, a bite to her voice that she didn't like.

He bowed. Ugh, what was with all the bowing? It made her feel so awkward, like she should do something when people bowed, but she didn't know what. Bow in response? Pat them on the head? Duck down so she could see their faces?

The old man stood before she could decide, probably because she was staring at him like an idiot. "I am Vaneé. I am the steward of this place. I serve Lord Ren as I once served his grandfather, Lord Vader."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. This man had been…Darth Vader's _butler_? She really didn't know what to say to that.

"I simply wished to inform you that Lord Ren requests the pleasure of your company at dinner."

Her stomach growled, but her blood boiled. Did Kylo really think he could entice her with food and she'd forgive him for abducting her? Presumptuous ass. "Well, you can tell _Lord Ren_ to take his dinner and sod off."

The butler or…whatever he was…lowered his head in submission and backed away. "As you wish, my lady."

Rey bit her lip. "Wait. I'm sorry."

He stopped, tilted his head. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry. That was rude. I…I don't know what came over me."

"My lady?" He seemed confused, and it occurred to her that maybe this was the first time anyone had ever apologized to him.

"None of this is your fault. There's no call for me to be snappish to you, and I apologize. It's…it's this place. It sets me on edge." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "How do you stand it?"

The attendant inclined his head. "I lack sensitivity to the Force, my lady, so this place has no real effect on me. And my lady need not apologize to me. It is my honor to serve."

"Still. I…I shouldn't snap at you."

The man's ancient face looked perplexed. "Very good, my lady." He was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. "Are you certain you won't reconsider dining with Lord Ren? He has had delicacies brought in from many systems to try to please my lady."

She deliberated. She was hungry, after all, and it didn't look like she was going to find a way out of here today. She'd try again tomorrow, and she'd have more luck if she was well-fed. And she had to admit, she was curious as to what he was having prepared for her. It smelled delectable. "Fine. You may tell _Lord Ren_ that I'll be happy to join him for dinner. _Just_ dinner," she said, pulling a chair out and settling herself at the table.

Vaneé smiled, giving a small bow. "Excellent. Ah, would my lady like to clean up a bit first?"

She looked at her grimy hands and dusty clothes, and was suddenly aware that she probably reeked of sweat and sex. She stood, the chair scraping too-loudly across the floor. "Right. Of course." She had that sliver of soap she had found, and she supposed she could wash out the tunic she was wearing and get it dry…

"It would be my honor to draw my lady a bath and assist her with dressing for dinner," the old man said.

Rey's eyes widened. It wasn't that she was modest – bathing on Jakku had taken place at an outdoor spigot behind a ratty scrap of toweling at Niima Outpost – but the idea of this stranger helping her dress was just…weird. "I…think I can manage by myself. Uh, thanks and all," she said.

He bowed again, lowering his eyes as if he had been rebuked. "As my lady wishes. I sometimes forget that not everyone requires the level of service Lord Vader did."

She hadn't meant to hurt the old guy's feelings, but still…she didn't need _help_ taking a _bath_.

She started to walk away, then turned, curious. "What did you mean? About…Darth Vader?"

The old man met her eyes briefly and looked at her as if he was evaluating her. "Lord Vader's armor was not worn to intimidate. It was a necessary life-support apparatus. Removing it required aid."

"Oh. But…"

"Yes?"

"I thought Darth Vader was invincible. All-powerful."

The old man's eyes bored into hers, and it felt like he was looking right into her soul, despite his self-proclaimed lack of Force sensitivity. He didn't speak for so long she thought he wasn't going to, but just as she turned to go he cleared his throat. "He was. Powerful. Strong. And a prisoner to the suit. He craved freedom from its confines, but taking it off left him exposed, vulnerable. Only a handful of people were allowed to see him in that state. I was one of those. I have kept his secret for many decades."

"Then why tell me?"

The old man blinked, once, slowly. "One can be both extremely powerful and extremely vulnerable, my lady. They are not mutually exclusive."

She nodded, bringing her hand to her mouth and nibbling at her thumb nail.

"Might I provide my lady a change of clothing, at least?"

"Umm, sure. That…that would be nice. I'll be using the big room at the end of the officer's guest hall."

He moved to leave.

"Wait. What about Kylo?"

Vaneé tilted his head. "I beg your pardon, my lady?"

"Do you…assist him?"

He shook his head. "Lord Ren asks for very little for himself."

He turned and left, melting into the shadows.

* * *

Kylo is doing some serious delusional thinking right now.

Thank you for being patient and for reading, and I hope you liked it. No beta this time, so I apologize for any mistakes. Sorry there were no sexy times in this chapter, but be patient. They won't be able to keep their hands off each other for too long. I hope you liked it, and comments are super appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6 - Dinner

KYLO

She wasn't coming. He had been waiting in the great hall for nearly an hour, first sitting, then pacing, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

The table was lit by flickering candles and set with jewel-red plates, heavy, ornate silverware, and the finest, most delicate crystal wine goblets – opulence once reserved for the Emperor and untouched since his death. Kylo didn't indulge in luxuries himself, but he had directed the staff to make the room as elegant as possible for Rey, and to prepare a banquet of her favorite foods, which they were keeping ready in the kitchen. Her seat was right beside his, not at the far end of the long table; he hoped to be able to touch her, feed her little tidbits by hand. He imagined her perfect pink lips licking bits of sauce or frosting from his fingers.

The only thing missing was Rey.

Vaneé had said she'd agreed to dine with him, but maybe she had changed her mind. She was still blocking him, with difficulty – he felt little bits of emotion seeping through, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking, only that she was angry – understandably so, of course. It would take her a while to realize why he had done what he had. Why he _had_ to do it.

By the time she walked through the durasteel double doors, he was frantic, pacing back and forth with long strides that he stopped abruptly when he saw her. His breath hitched. Force, she was stunning. She had on one of the dresses he had ordered for her. Oh, how he had enjoyed doing that. It was one of the few pleasures he had been allowed once the plan to bring her here was in place. Snoke had waved a hand, bored, indifferent. _Buy her whatever you like. Tempt her. Woo her. It is of no consequence to me. Tell that prick Hux to find the credits to pay for it._

He had spent every spare moment (and there weren't many) picking things out for her – dresses, jewels, food he thought, no _knew_ , she would like. And now here she was, standing in the doorway, wearing his favorite gown, the first one he had chosen for her. It was made of Belsavis vine-silk, so expensive that it cost a third of the entire gross domestic product of some smaller planets (Hux had fumed and cursed, but he had found the credits somehow). The delicate material was dyed an iridescent black that shimmered purple and blue in the light. It was low-cut and tight through the bodice, thrusting her breasts high. The skirt skimmed her thighs in the front but flared out in the back, forming a sweeping train. Wide insets of handmade black lace showed tempting glimpses of her legs as she moved. Kriff, her legs – milky white and smooth and perfect. Legs, especially thighs, were rarely seen in public, and the little flashes of pale skin with each step drove him mad. Her feet peeked out as she walked, encased in a pair of delicately embroidered slippers, the designs of miniature leaves and vines and flowers reminding him of her love for growing things.

Her hair was loose, sweeping against her shoulders, shiny from washing and sleek from being combed. The only incongruency was the vintage command cap perched rakishly on her head. He smiled. It was the perfect final touch.

"Rey. You're here. You look…breathtaking."

She raised a brow, tugged at the dress, trying to pull the material higher so it covered her chest more. "I suppose this was your idea?" She asked.

"Don't you like it? There are others…"

"Yeah. Your creepy butler brought a whole pile of them. Actually, I love it. It's beautiful. I'm just not used to wearing, you know, dresses. I feel like I look…silly."

"Silly? Rey, you look regal."

"Regal?" She scoffed.

"Of course, my love. You…" he looked at her and he sucked in a harsh breath. "The galaxy should bow to you."

"Pfffff," she made a funny little sound with her mouth, but he could tell she was flattered. "Look, if you think I'm going to be some sort of…ornament or…plaything…"

"No. No! This is evening attire. For formal occasions. As is mine." He gestured to his own clothing. He had selected a pair of slim black trousers, a finely-tailored shirt made of deep black vine-silk, and a close-cut jacket of heavy, soft velvet. His boots were not the usual heavy combat style, but light, made of butter-soft leather. He stood like a statue as she studied him. He could feel the heat from her gaze as her eyes moved down his body, could almost taste the clouds of lust wafting from her, muted by her simmering anger, but definitely there.

He moved, rather suddenly, and jerked her chair out for her.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of…"

"I know. But it's considered polite." Words from another life flitted through his brain – _an archaic gesture, yes, but so many of the social niceties are. Titles, for example, royalty in a galaxy ruled by elected leaders, but people still hold on to them…_ "Please, let me…"

"Okay." She settled in the chair, let him help push it closer to the table.

He couldn't resist letting his fingers trail over her neck and shoulder. He sighed, shuddered. "I would never consider you just an ornament, my love. There are other clothes here for your use. Regular tunics and trousers, training gear, armor…"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Armor?" The lust was gone, pushed out by suspicion and ire.

He gulped and took his seat.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before he suddenly took in a sharp breath and pressed a button. The kitchen door opened and two serving droids came in, placing a decanter of wine and multiple steaming dishes of food on the table. Kylo didn't acknowledge the droids, but Rey turned to them with a dazzling smile and murmured a soft 'thank you'.

"Yes. Thank you," Kylo added as the droids scurried away, feeling like a child who had forgotten his manners.

Rey's eyes widened as she took in the endless parade of dishes. She leaned in, licking her lips. "Are those grilled bantha steaks with blue cheese? And buttered potato rice? We had that at a party we had at the Resistance base to celebrate…well, to celebrate. And there was…yes! Quinberry cake! And, oh, nerf stew and maize rolls! Porridge with poptree syrup? And…creamed chipped bantha?" She glanced up, quizzical. "They served it all the time in the Resistance mess. Everyone else complained, but I loved it. Salty and creamy and hot." Her eyes moved to the next dish, brows drawing together in perplexity. "Are those scrambled porg eggs with wild magenta onions? I ate those on the island. And baked cushnips with fral! I had those at Maz's! And those little pink and green fruits I ate there! And…" she tilted her head, wrinkled her nose. "Whole wheat portion bread? Mashed scrubroots seasoned with veg-meat grease? These are things I ate on Jakku."

His heart sank. "You don't like it."

"No. No, no, no, it's not that I don't _like_ it. These are all some of my favorites. It's just…an odd combination. Fine, posh food and portions. Breakfasts and dinners…"

"I wanted to surprise you with all your favorite foods."

Comprehension dawned on her face and then she narrowed her eyes. "So you picked through my brain to find out what those were?"

He gave a smug smile.

Several expressions flickered over her face – annoyance, gratitude, confusion, amusement, skepticism – but she finally settled on a small pleased smile. "So that's why this meal looks like a tour of my life."

He shrugged, gave a half-smile. "I…don't really know how to…what to serve…"

She smiled back, picking up a maize roll and taking a large bite. "Actually, it's perfect. These are all things that made me happy." She moved down the table, scooping up some of the mashed scrubroots with her fingers and putting them in her mouth, licking every bit of grease from her fingertips.

Kylo gulped. The well-brought-up, proper son of a politician was appalled at her manners, but the man was enthralled at the sight of her licking her fingers with such gusto. She picked up a small, pale-yellow disc from a plate at the end of the table. "I…I don't remember these," she said, turning it in her fingers. She put it to her lips, nibbled – it was sweet and citrusy - and her eyes popped open. "Yes, I do. I do! They're…I don't know what they're called but I remember them from…from before Jakku. They're…they're from my childhood." She looked at Kylo with shining eyes and an incandescent smile. "You…you found a memory of…of before. Of my family. Thank you."

He looked down, suddenly overwhelmed at how such a small thing could affect her, overwhelmed by her profound loneliness. Well, she would never have to be lonely again. He would make sure of that. And maybe he could find other memories…even find her family. If the memory of the cookies was in there, maybe others were too.

"Wine?" He asked, lifting the decanter. The wine gleamed a deep, rich purple-red in the flickering candlelight. "It's Veronian berry wine. One of the finest vintages in the galaxy now that..." He stopped before the rest of the sentence fell from his lips – _now that Alderaanian wine isn't available._

"Thank you," she said. He poured a glass and handed it to her, his fingers grazing hers as she took it. The contact made his skin tingle and burn.

He took a long drink of his wine. He had to control himself. When he was this close to her, he _needed_ to touch her. Taste her. Devour her. "Shall we eat?"

She grinned. "Yes!"

He took a serving fork, speared the largest bantha steak and slid it onto her plate, taking another for himself. She scooped some of the potato rice onto her plate, then his, and he drizzled some of the drippings from the meat over it. She watched, and then did the same. Then she attacked the steak with her knife and fork, shoving large bites in her mouth, gushing over how utterly delicious it was around a huge mouthful. He nibbled at his food, mostly just enjoying watching her. When she had polished off the steak, she ladled some of the nerf stew into a bowl, got up on her knees in her chair so she could reach the creamed chipped bantha and porg eggs and piled her plate high with them, then reached for the cushnips and fral. When she couldn't reach the pink fruit, he held out a hand and levitated one, floating it to her. She blinked in surprise and then laughed, opening her hand. He let it drop into her palm. "Thanks," she said, eyes sparkling, as she took a big, crunching bite.

Having sampled everything, she was finishing off the last bits of quinberry cake, swiping up crimson quinberry jam filling and licking it off her fingers. It was far too sweet for him, almost painfully so, but he certainly enjoyed watching her enjoy it, seeing her little pink tongue flick out, hearing the soft sucking sounds she made as she slurped the juice off her fingers. Fuck, he was getting hard just watching her eat.

She swiped up more quinberry sauce. He grabbed her wrist, brought her hand to his face and licked and sucked the scarlet jam off her fingers. "Sweet," he whispered.

She gasped, bit her lip.

He released her wrist and skimmed his fingers up her arm, and was gratified to see goose bumps in the wake of his touch. He angled himself so he was facing her and leaned closer, glad they were sitting side by side. She was still, so still, her breath coming faster and faster as he trailed his fingers over her shoulder, along her collarbone, down to the neckline of her gown, one finger sliding along the edge of the heavy silk, dipping down into the valley between her breasts, so delicately, desire sparking along every nerve and thudding in his bloodstream, his control slipping as she leaned closer. He wanted her, in ways he knew and ways he had never known. Her lips were red from the quinberry juice and slightly parted, as if she was waiting to be kissed. And when their eyes met, he realized she was. She wanted him too, wanted him to want her, because he could hear her thoughts, and what she was thinking – it was filthy and delicious.

He clenched his hand into a fist, gripping the material of her dress and jerking her against him, devouring her lips, demanding her tongue, hand tugging at her dress. Losing patience, he attacked the material with his mouth, biting her nipple through the fabric and reveling in the low, pleading moan that he drew from her. Her hands were in his hair, twining and tugging until he growled.

She was the first to pull away, clawing her way back to reason. "No. I won't do this. You abducted me. I won't just fall into your bed, no matter how much I want to," she panted.

He still had the material of her dress clutched in his fist, fingers against the skin between her breasts, and he pulled her closer. "Who said anything about a bed?" He hissed into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin as he let her see the picture in his mind, of her spread out on the table, skirts hiked up, legs spread while he consumed her.

She shuddered, then scrunched her face up in determination and shook her head back and forth. "But…I'm mad at you." Her voice was strained and quivery.

"I know. That doesn't mean we can't…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I need you. And you need me. I can feel it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Kylo. Why am I here?"

"I told you. I could not bear being without you."

She frowned. "And?"

"Please. Do we have to talk about this now? Can't we just enjoy being together?"

She leaned in, her face close to his, and snarled. "No. Not until you tell me the truth. You said you were only allowed to learn how to do…that…that travel thing…for some larger purpose. _Allowed_ by whom? And why?"

He looked away. "You know the answers."

"So all of this…it was just an elaborate trap? So you could…could turn me, make me a pawn of that _creature_?"

"No! No. Rey, you belong with me. Let me be your teacher. You _know_ I can teach you more than…than my uncle."

"I don't want to learn about the dark side."

"You say that, but…you've never felt it. Not really."

She stared at him, her eyes boring into his. "And if I choose not to…to accept your offer?"

He swallowed, a long gulp. "I'll let you go. If after one lunar cycle, you want to go, you can leave." It was one of the hardest things he had ever said, but he had decided.

Her eyes widened, eyebrows shooting toward her hairline.

"I swear it. Search my mind, you'll know it's true."

He opened his mind, gave her free access to his thoughts, let her see his intentions and all he yearned for. He wanted her to stay with him, join him, let him teach her. He wanted her as his apprentice and his consort, a warrior and queen – he wanted her to belong to him, body, mind and soul. _Him_ , not Snoke – a tiny mutinous thought he barely acknowledged. But only if she wanted to. He wanted her by his side, in his bed, at his beck and call – and he at hers, never apart, never alone, never lonely. They would fight, they would rule, they would fuck, anytime they wanted, anywhere…after a battle, sweaty and bloody, his hands pulling her hair, bringing her to her knees, pounding into her mouth hard and fast as smoke wafted into the sky. Here, in this castle, in his bed, long and slow and delicious, kissing every inch of her and making her come over and over; in the Sith cave below, dark power swirling around them, claiming her on the stone floor. On his ship, stars streaking by in hyperspace as he bent her over the console and slammed her head down and…

She jerked her eyes away, gripping the edge of the table, gasping. "Even if I wanted that, you had no right to bring me here against my will."

"But my love, I had to, I had to bring you here. I was afraid…so afraid that you…that I would lose you, that you would find someone else, someone…" his voice dropped… "someone worthy, acceptable, someone that would be there for you and that you didn't consider a…a bad habit."

She took a deep breath. "I…I don't consider you a bad habit. And I don't want anyone else. But I didn't like having to keep secrets. I didn't like the guilt."

He leaned closer. "You needn't feel guilt ever again."

She raised an eyebrow. "How? The dark side?"

He reached out, ran a finger down the side of her face, along her jaw, to her chin. "It takes it away, frees you…"

"Has it done that for you?" She spat, jerking her chin away.

He was silent for a long time. When he spoke his voice was low and hoarse. "Not yet. But that's because I am weak."

She looked at him, long and deep, their eyes locked. They both gasped as the bond came alive, the eye contact crumbling Rey's barriers like sand. He couldn't look away, and neither could she, both of them simply falling into the bond, into each other. He reveled in the feeling, the blissful connection. It wound around them, little tendrils of energy that felt nothing like the constant background energy here. It wasn't dark, but it wasn't light either. It was just…a link, as inexorable and as neutral as gravity, pulling them together. He felt like he was falling into her eyes, drowning in the deep greeny-brown depths of her. He felt like he could float there forever, and he knew she felt it too, felt her sinking into him, being sucked into his dark depths, so far he knew he'd never get her out – not that he wanted to. He couldn't move, didn't want to move as she swam in the dark, tangled currents of his mind, plumbed the long-hidden depths of his soul and saw every part of him, even the things he couldn't see.

She took a shuddering breath and spread her hands flat on the table. "Or maybe it's because you're strong. Too strong to be broken completely."

He looked away. "No. The Supreme Leader is wise. He says it is my weakness, keeping me from reaching my full potential. If I were just stronger, more obedient…"

She bit her lip. "Obedient. That's what he wants, isn't it? Total submission?"

He screwed up his face in confusion. "Of course. In order to help me, make me stronger…"

"He taught you how to Force travel so you could capture me. Bring me here. You…you said it was very difficult."

He nodded.

"And he's just going to let you release me if I don't want to stay?"

Fear rippled through him. He stared at the table, unable to meet her eyes, to admit what they both knew. "I _will_ let you go," he growled. "If you do not wish to stay." He would, and damn the consequences. Even though he knew what they might be.

She looked at him, her head dipping down, her eyes searching his face. She bit her lip and sighed, and put her hand on top of his. "Oh, Kylo."

He jerked his hand away. "I don't want your pity. Allow me to show you the advantages of staying. Perhaps…perhaps you'll decide you want to."

She nodded. "Alright," she whispered. "But that doesn't make this okay. You know that, right? That _taking_ me like that…it wasn't right? That I'm still furious with you for that."

He looked up at her. "As you should be. Rey, you have a right to be angry. I won't condemn you for it. I won't ask you to hide it, deny it. I want it, I want your anger, your rage. I adore it." He ran a finger along his scar. "This…I love this. I love remembering the look on your face, the perfect fury, the way you turned feeling into action."

"But I hurt you."

"I deserved it, deserved your hate, deserved the pain. If you're angry, be angry. I want it, Rey, I want your rage." He watched as her eyes widened, flickered from side to side as she tried to make sense of her own feelings.

She was still, hovering, unsure. "Is this…is this some dark side thing? A way to…to turn me…?"

Now he was the one who was angry, white-hot rage flashing through his veins. He leaned in, gripped her biceps, fingers clenching. "Don't say that. Don't think that. Ever again." He snarled. " _This_ is not about the dark side or the light, not about the war, this is about _us_ , about the fact that I want you. _This_ is about the fact that I…I think I love you, madly, dangerously and very imprudently. It's not about sides. Not about the Force. _This_ is never about anything except the fact that we are destined to be together. Don't you ever forget that." He realized his words had come out like a threat, but he didn't care. She had to know that wanting her, _loving_ her, and trying to bring her to his side in this war were two entirely separate issues. " _This_ is about the fact that whatever is left of my heart and soul belongs to you, and I want you to _take_ it, Rey, all of it, all of me. I wronged you, bringing you here like this. But only because I need you. I want to prove it, I want to worship you."

"You…think you love me?"

"Desperately. Will you let me show you?"

She nodded. "Yes." Her voice was thick with lust and something more.

He pushed her chair away from the table, turned it so she was facing him and dropped to his knees in front of her. He could smell her arousal, heavy and hot. He pushed her skirts up, the vine-silk soft between his fingers, but nothing compared to her skin. He caressed her thighs, pushing the fabric higher, kissing up her leg as she moaned and writhed in the chair. Her skin was so soft, so pale here where the sun hadn't touched it. He ran a finger up her thigh, let it skim between her legs and brush the soft material of her underthings, then grabbed them in both hands and jerked them down her legs and off.

She gasped.

He looked up at her and smirked as she blushed.

He sucked in a breath, slid his hands up and down her legs, then he gripped her knees and shoved her legs apart, spread them wide so he could see everything. He had never really done this, just looked. She was pink and glistening, so wet and irresistable. He hadn't touched her, tasted her there in person, and while the bond was almost like reality, it wasn't the same and he realized he was beyond impatient. He kissed his way up her thigh, biting and nipping as he went. She squirmed and cried out, "Yes" and "More" as he sank his teeth into her creamy flesh. He knew he would leave bruises; he wanted to, not hurt her but to remind her that she was _his_. He swiped his tongue between her soft pink folds. She was delicious, and the sounds she was making, little grunts and gasps, encouraged him to do more. He flicked his tongue over that delicate little nub that he knew would send her over the edge, at the same time thrusting his fingers inside her, one, then two as she threw her head back and moaned and jerked her hips against his face. It didn't take long until she tensed, her legs shaking, her hands pulling his hair hard, obscene sounds coming from her mouth. Then she went limp, panting, melting into the chair. He looked up at her and grinned. She was beautiful, her face flushed, her skirts scrunched up around her waist, looking thoroughly satiated. She looked down, met his eyes.

"Stand up," she said, low and dark.

He stood. She reached out, unfastened his trousers. His cock sprang free, hard and aching and leaking already. She stood up and backed him against the table, shoved him against the edge of it, and dropped to her knees.

"My turn," she explained. She wrapped a hand around him and started stroking. She leaned in, gave a little experimental lick and he groaned. She looked up at him, smiled. "You like that?"

"Kriff, yes," he growled.

She licked again, slower this time, then swirled her tongue around the head, licking off the drop of liquid there. "You taste salty," she said, and he thought he might explode right then, coating her pretty little mouth and her pink cheeks with come. "You want to come on my face?"

"I want to come anywhere you'll let me," he said.

She licked him again, a long swipe of her tongue from base to tip. "I want you to come in my mouth," she said. "I want to taste you more."

He made a strangled sound, unable to manage words as she closed her lips around his cock and started moving her head. He was still, letting her set the pace, letting her decide how much of him she could take. He wasn't going to last long anyway. Her mouth was so hot and wet and perfect, and he was mesmerized watching his dick slide in and out of it, watching her cheeks hollow out as she sucked. He willed himself to be still, clutched the edge of the table with his hands. He wanted to grab her by the hair and thrust against that perfect mouth so hard it would knock the little command cap off her head.

When she pulled away, he whined. "Rey, please, don't stop."

"Stop holding back. I'm not made of glass. I know what you want to do, I know what you need, and I need it too. So do it," she growled before she took him back in her mouth.

That was all he needed. He grabbed her hair, pushing her head down, and gave a hard thrust. She grunted. He felt that thick feeling of lust building in her again, and he bucked against her again, harder. The cap tumbled to the floor. He tangled his hands in her hair and gave another thrust and shouted as he emptied himself in her mouth, thrusting again as she swallowed. It felt like he might keep coming forever.

Finally spent, he pulled away and slumped against the edge of the table, panting, pulling his trousers back up from where they had fallen around his ankles. "That was…incredible. You're incredible."

She grinned, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and retrieved the cap. She stepped closer, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I think I love you too," she whispered. "But I'm not sleeping in your bed. And I'll probably escape tomorrow."

He sank into a chair, a huge goofy smile on his face, and not just from the best blow job he'd ever had. She had said she thought she loved him, and although he knew he didn't deserve her love, he hoped that maybe she did, just a little.

* * *

So, that was dinner. Hope you enjoyed it. She hasn't forgiven him for the whole abduction thing, but she's also in denial because deep down, she wants to be with him – just not in these circumstances.

All foods, fabrics, etc. from Wookipedia. Except the scrambled porg eggs – those I made up based on the pictures of the porgs, because they're just too damn cute to ignore.

Hope you liked it, and as always, comments are as delicious as all the yummy stuff they had for dinner.


	7. Chapter 7 - Rey

REY

 _I'm trying to find a way out._

That's what Rey told herself as she poked around the castle. So what if she probably wasn't going to find a secret passageway out through the back of the linen closet? _You never know,_ she convinced herself, as she ran her fingers over a stack of wine-colored sheets as soft as flower petals, or draped an intricate black lace curtain over her head and around her shoulders, her fingers gliding over the material as she imagined herself at some elegant event, a woman of allure and mystery.

And maybe the library wasn't the most _likely_ place for Kylo to have stashed a TIE fighter, but there were holobooks about flying, and that was useful, right? _The_ _Basic Space Aerobatics Manual; Spaceflight in the Hyperspace Era and Beyond; The Greatest Space Duels of the Clone Wars; Deathstar: The Empire and the Crisis Aboard DS-1_ …so much good information. It would be a shame to ignore it. And so what if she tucked that one holonovel about the Anzat Jedi-turned-Sith and the beautiful Twi'lek Jedi who became his apprentice into her bag to read later? The illustrations were bright and exciting and it looked like she might be stuck here for a while and, well, she didn't like to be bored.

The days had taken on a sort of routine. She got up in the morning, dressed in something practical, and went down to the kitchens, where she got a simple breakfast of a protein bar or instant muffin from the assistant cooking droid, See-oh, or one of the Mustafarians. See-oh was friendly if a little dim, and they usually chatted for a few minutes – mundane things like the weather ( _gonna be a scorcher today, and tomorrow, and the next day_ …). Four-three, the aloof personal chef droid, did not deign to serve such basic fare or engage in small talk, and only powered on when there was real cooking to be done.

Then she began a methodical search of the castle. There were multiple levels, each with long hallways and warrens of rooms built for various purposes – meeting rooms, control rooms, guest quarters, storage, maintenance, detention. Today, she was in what seemed to be an unused control room. It appeared to have once powered some sort of file retrieval system. It was non-operational, but it only took her a few hours to get the obsolete tech up and running. Unfortunately, she didn't find anything interesting – just access to old Imperial personnel files. No schematics, no access codes, nothing that would help her find an escape. She read through a few of the files – a lieutenant had been transferred to Mustafar after being unable to work on Star Destroyers due to severe space sickness that didn't respond to any of the usual treatments. A loyalty officer had requested a transfer off-world due to an impending divorce. A communications technician had been disciplined for tardiness. Rey thought three months in the brig was a bit excessive for being seventeen minutes late for a shift, but what did she know about running an Empire?

She sighed and moved on to physically searching the room, falling back on the familiar routine of scavenging. She had a system to her foraging. On the first pass, she looked in the obvious places – she opened drawers and closets and cupboards, peered under beds or desks or consoles and on high shelves. She didn't find much that way – mostly junk that had been left behind and missed by the cleaning droids. This time, she found a caf mug with an Imperial insignia, a few flimsis with notes scribbled on them, and a credit chip that had gotten wedged into the side of a drawer - not much use here, but she kept it anyway; if she managed to escape who knew where she might end up, and even a few credits could be useful. On her second sweep, she looked for hiding places – she had learned that there were always hiding places. The rebels had hidden things that they didn't want to be caught with, the Imperials had hidden things that were against regulation, and crime syndicates, smugglers and bounty hunters– well, they hid everything. So she tapped at the walls and floors, listening for a hollow sound and prying panels loose; she felt around the backs and bottoms of drawers and cabinets, the undersides of chairs, looked under and inside of mattresses or cushions or in the seams of drapes, pried open access panels and peeked behind the wiring and cabling, removed the covers of light fixtures and the backs of consoles. There was less return for more effort this way, but when she did find something, it was usually far more valuable. In the personnel office, she discovered a small flask half-full of some sort of strong-smelling poison-green liquor, a stack of pornographic holos (she wouldn't mind trying _that_ position with Kylo), a box of hard pink candies that tasted like juna berries, and a small pouch filled with hunks of lava that had obviously been meant to be smuggled out and sold on the black market as 'genuine Mustafar lava, touched by Vader'. On Jakku, she would have made a third pass, during which she would have dismantled and cannibalized whatever was left to sell for parts, but she didn't do that here. There was no one to sell them to, and she didn't need to trade for portions.

She didn't need to scavenge at all; Kylo had made sure her every need was seen to. When she returned to the room she had claimed as her own after that first dinner, she found that Vaneé had re-made the bed with fresh sheets, a cloud-like comforter – soft and thick but light enough not to be sweltering on this scorching planet - and a decadent pile of gort-feather pillows. The drawers were stocked with every article of clothing she could imagine needing, and many whose purpose she could only guess at (those long sheer things that must be made to go over legs, the little scraps of silk and lace that could only be undergarments). The 'fresher had been cleaned until it gleamed and stocked with so many soaps and shampoos and conditioners and lotions she would never be able to use them all, plus fluffy towels and cleaning cloths and scented oils and scrubs and powders she wasn't sure how to use. Food was hers for the asking, either in the kitchen or by pressing the comm that had been left by her bed, which summoned Vaneé immediately.

She could feel Kylo's presence, quiet, waiting, brooding, but maintaining his patience as she wandered through the dark, winding hallways, peering into room after room.

Vaneé found her every evening (or she assumed it was evening – without a chrono, there was no way to tell here) and extended an invitation to dine with Lord Ren. And every evening, she accepted, maybe a little more eagerly than she meant to.

She returned to her borrowed room, bathed and put on another of the gowns Kylo had bought for her. They weren't all black, she was glad to discover, but they were all stunning, elegant and, well, sensual. They weren't overtly sexy; some were even delicate and innocent looking, but there was something about all of them that made her feel beautiful and feminine and erotic in a way she never had before. And there was a part of her that couldn't wait to wear them for Kylo, to see his reaction.

For tonight, she chose a gown of cerulean blue velvet, flecked with tiny gems that gleamed like stars. It skimmed over her curves, the neckline plunging low between her breasts, the skirt flaring out, spreading into a long train that trailed the floor behind her, the heavy material swirling and shimmering with each step. When she walked, a modest slit in the front showed a hint of her ankles and feet, which were clad in soft blue leather sandals that matched the dress.

This dinner, like the previous ones, was an opulent affair, with flickering candlelight and delicacies chosen especially to please and tempt Rey, and of course, Kylo, looking even more scrumptious than the food, dressed in a shimmering onyx silk shirt, a velvet jacket so deeply black it seemed to be made of shadow, and butter soft black leather trousers that…no, she wouldn't stare at his ass; she didn't suddenly have an urge to bite it; she wouldn't look at the bulge in the front. Nope. She dragged her eyes back upward. His hair curled softly around his face and his eyes roved over her body.

She wanted to touch him _everywhere_.

He took two long steps across the floor and was at her side. "I hope you're hungry," he said, voice low, lips almost brushing her ear.

It made her shiver and flush at the same time.

"I missed you today," he rumbled against her skin as he pulled her chair out for her.

Something quivered and clenched deep inside her. "I…I missed you too." She sank into the seat, eyes locked with his.

"So beautiful." His fingers trailed over her shoulder and down, along the edge of her bodice, grazing her flesh, heat radiating off his skin.

A little smile flickered over her lips. "So are you."

"No one has ever called me _that_ ," he said.

"Well, they should. You are," she said, absolutely sincere.

He blushed and ducked his head as he took his seat.

That night, they ate a fruit salad of honey melon, meiloorun fruit and iced cloudberries, followed by Mandolorian roast shatual with root vegetables, and for dessert, forest-honey cake. Rey had never seen anything like the cake, delicate flaky layers dripping with the sweet, thick, slightly floral forest-honey.

After they finished eating, Kylo had licked honey off her fingers, then kissed her palm, her wrist, up her arm, his mouth hot and wet and intoxicating.

"Rey, sweet Rey," he whispered, pulling her onto his lap and ghosting his lips along her throat and down, between her breasts. His breath was hot, his lips suddenly demanding as he moved back up to her open mouth and kissed her, his tongue sweeping inside as his hands moved up her arms and back, clutching and grabbing. He pushed the material of her dress aside and kneaded her breast, squeezing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her moan and whimper into his mouth. He broke the kiss to latch onto her nipple, sucking and licking and biting, sending little shocks through her until she spread her legs apart and begged him to touch her _down there_. When he did, she melted almost instantly in a pleasurable mess, her muscles clenching, her head arching back, pressing hard against his shoulder, mouth open as she gasped and keened, pleasure washing over her in waves as she came on his fingers, leaving his hand wet and dripping.

He held her on his lap, his hand still on her bare thigh, his eyes searching her face, a tiny, pleased smile on his lips.

She smiled back, eyes sparkling. How he could manage to do that to her with just his hand she didn't know, but he could – his hand, his tongue, his cock…every way he touched her sent her into spasms of the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. The first time it had happened, when they were still limited to dream visits, she thought he had done something with the Force, but he assured her he had not. Sure, it was a little like that feeling of relief she had managed to give herself, rubbing herself against a wad of bunched up blankets in her lonely AT-AT, or, later, sliding her own fingers inside her pants, but she had never felt that with anyone else, and never anything so intense. He had acted surprised, a little dumbfounded, and inordinately pleased when he figured out that he was the first person to get her off.

She reached out, tentative fingers tugging at his trousers.

He opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips, shushing him. "I…I want to…to touch you." Now that they had been together, taken off some of the desperate edge, she felt suddenly shy. Despite what they had already done, in shared dreams and daydreams and here, carried away by frenzied lust and need, she was more hesitant now, less confident and self-assured, but still needy and curious.

She slid off his lap, onto her knees on the floor. "Can I?"

He nodded and gulped, his eyes falling closed as she ran her hand over the hard bulge in his trousers. It didn't take her long to undo the buttons and free his cock. This was the first time she had really looked at one; they had been so frantic before, and while technically she supposed she had seen others, she had never really _looked_. Her few fumbling encounters on Jakku had been too awkward or embarrassing or rushed or random for anything so intimate – mostly harried, disappointing groping in uncomfortable places, followed by a quick departure on her part.

So now, she took her time. She ran a finger down the long vein on the underside of his cock and around the ridge at the head, feeling the delicate skin. Her other hand moved to cup his balls, squeezing slightly, feeling the strange way they rolled beneath the skin.

"Rey…" he choked out.

She glanced up. "I…I want to take my time. I like…touching it."

His eyes widened then darted away.

She gripped his cock and her fist moved slowly up and down the hard length. It seemed to grow and harden in her hand. She looked in short furtive glimpses, her eyes flicking up then away. Her cheeks burned but she continued, moving her thumb over the head, spreading the drop of clear fluid that had collected there over it. "How do you make it…hard?"

He made a choking sound. "I…I don't. You do."

She giggled. "No, but really."

"It just…happens."

Judging by his harsh gasps, the way his hands were gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles white, and the way his mind seemed to be blanking out, she didn't think this was the time to try to talk any more. He reached out, pulling her toward him, her knees scraping against the stone floor, her face and chest inches from his cock now. He pawed at her gown, pushing the straps off her shoulders, his hands finding her breasts. She sped up her movements, her hand moving rapidly, her gaze intense and rapt, as he groaned and tensed, his hips rocking forward as she pumped his cock.

"Rey, Rey, I can't…I'm…I'm coming…" His voice ended with a gurgling grunt as thick white liquid spurted onto her chest and face.

He slumped forward, panting, a blush creeping across his face. "I'm sorry, I…I tried to wait but, the way you were touching me, the way you were _looking_ at me…I just…"

She smiled, warmth creeping across her face. "Don't be. I liked it."

She found the little whimper that escaped his throat exceptionally gratifying.

She stood up, letting her dress fall back over her legs. She started to tug the top back in place, but he stopped her, wiping gently at her skin with a napkin, cleaning up the cooling drips of…of him. Their eyes met, and she was captured, frozen by that intense dark gaze. She stilled, let him clean her up, let him carefully slide the dress back up over her breasts and shoulders, let him smooth her hair out of her face, wiping away a streak of sticky wetness, let him pull her back into his lap.

"Stay? For a bit?" He asked, and damn, his eyes were so huge and hopeful that she swallowed and nodded yes immediately. She tucked her head under his chin, and for a long time they just sat there, enjoying the feeling of contentment.

* * *

434-FPC - Personal Chef Droid, very capable, can make almost anything

COO – A less capable cooking droid, limited selection of recipes available

All foods from Wookieepedia; since there was no real description of Kashyyk forest-honey cake, I sort of imagined it as Wookiee baklava.

Books: The 'flying' books are just SW-ized versions of the titles of real aviation books: _The_ _Basic Aerobatics Manual; Spaceflight in the Shuttle Era and Beyond; The Greatest Air Duels of World War II; Dragonfly: NASA and the Crisis Aboard MIR_. And the 'holonovel about the Anzat Jedi-turned-Sith and the beautiful Twi'lek Jedi who became his apprentice'…no, it's not my made-up version of Space _Twilight,_ it's an actual comic (from the old EU I guess) called _Darkness_.

I have been trying to write this chapter forever and life kept getting in the way, but here it is. I hope you like it. If you're wondering what Kylo is up to while Rey "tried to escape", you'll find out next chapter – it's from his POV.

Thank you to Perry Downing for the super quick beta and the excellent suggestions! I hope you like the way it ended up!

And thank you all for reading and being patient with my sporadic updating – I wish I could just write, but there are bills to pay and people to deal with. Reviews make my day (or night)!


	8. Chapter 8 - Kylo

KYLO

Five days had passed.

He had given Rey time and space, let her keep up the fiction that she would escape. If she needed to believe that to make her situation acceptable for now, he understood.

Eventually, she would see. She would accept the truth, and she would come to him.

He ignored the apprehension at the back of his mind, the sense of time slipping away, the persistent feeling of impending doom. It would be alright. It would be fine. He would show her what the dark side really was – passion, strength, freedom. The chance to use all her power, to be the person the Force meant for her to be. True, there were sacrifices, but when you felt it, that blissful freedom from the constraints put in place by the Jedi, from guilt, from conscience…it was transcendent. She would see, she would realize that letting the dark side in would free her, not corrupt her. She would see and it would be fine. It would all be fine.

He had spent the last hour going over tonight's menu with Four-three. Rey had especially enjoyed the peppery stuffed pod-poppers and the fodu in green fire sauce (a spicy Melahnese delicacy Four-three said had been served on the Death Star), so he had chosen another highly-seasoned dish, jerked dewback, for tonight, along with a decadent dessert and a bottle of rare, teal-colored Toniray wine he had procured. He carefully avoided thinking about the fact that it came from his mother's home planet or why it was so very rare. He thought Rey would like the brilliant color and the bubbles.

This was how he had started every day since bringing her here – meticulously planning his evening with Rey. After menu planning, he gave Vaneé a selection of gowns, jewels, delicate underthings – he wanted his love to get to choose, but he also wanted to pick things out for her.

Next, he spent time in the Sith cave below the castle, meditating, letting the dark side seep into him – although it seemed to get more difficult with each day, the dark energy present, thrumming with intensity and passion and promise, but muted, distant, as if it was content to wrap around him but not possess him.

Then he trained. The castle's first floor boasted a large training area – primitive, with rock walls and torches for lighting, but supplied with all the latest training droids and weapons. He couldn't wait to bring Rey here, to face her again over the glow of a lightsaber, not as an adversary but as an _equal_ , perhaps as an apprentice. He wasn't sure what Snoke would allow. But he hoped, yearned, longed to teach her, not as just another of the Knights of Ren, but as his _own_. He pushed away the nagging doubt and anxiety that tried to surface.

After that, he walked the perimeter of the castle, checking on the Stormtrooper guard detail and turning over each moment with Rey in his mind:

The black dress – his favorite – and the buffet of her favorite foods and the taste of her.

The blue velvet and the forest-honey cake; his fingers sliding up her thigh until her touched her just there, those high, desperate sounds she made, the way her fingernails dug into his shoulders and left little crescent-shaped indentations…

The delicate cream and gold lace gown, ethereal crystal mushroom soup and Bespin cloud meringue cake; her fingers twined in his hair while he pressed her against the sleek wall and pounded into her, grunting and gasping, both of them out of control.

The purple satyn with the multiple layers of skirts edged with black velvet, and the fierce Cortyg brandy they had sipped, sitting on an enormous maroon velvet sofa in the library looking at holobooks together. Slowly unbuttoning the bodice of her dress, like opening a gift, and teasing and sucking her perfect pink nipples until she was squirming and pleading and clawing at his clothes. Her soft creamy breasts bouncing as she rode him, her head thrown back in almost-painful ecstasy. She was so wild and free and uninhibited – everything he had never been able to be – and he adored her for it, adored the way she simply lost herself in need and lust and hunger – for him. For _him_. She had been so needy that night, so demanding, taking what _she_ wanted (his mind drifting back to that particular idle threat; it was her, always her, who could take whatever she wanted), her whole body tensing and contracting around him as she nearly convulsed with pleasure, sending him over the edge with her. And after - holding her with her back against his chest and talking into the night until they finally drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

She was gone when he woke up, of course, but he wasn't worried. He would see her that night. He stood, slipped on his trousers and gathered up his scattered clothing. His love had tossed it all over the room in her urgency to undress him. A small smile played across his lips. Perhaps they would end the evening in the library again. It was far more comfortable than the dining hall. He would have Vaneé serve the Toniray here. It could be kept in a bucket of ice so it would stay cold, and they would drink it out of those delicate cut-crystal glasses with the gold rims…

A piercing pain lanced behind his eyes, blinding him for a moment and sending him to his knees. He clutched his temples as a familiar voice hissed into his mind. "I have been awaiting a report from you, boy. My patience grows thin."

His whole body jolted, his blood burned and froze in his veins as adrenaline pumped into his system. His heart pounded against his chest and his breath came in shallow gasps. His mind went to Rey – he couldn't let her feel this. He slammed the bond closed. Whatever was about to happen, she didn't need to know about it.

He gritted his teeth against the throbbing, pulsing pain behind his eyes. The pain wasn't necessary; Snoke could whisper into his head without it hurting. In fact, he could make it feel so very good, soothing and silky and comforting. The pain meant his master was displeased. But…he had been doing as he was supposed to, he had brought Rey here, he was slowly winning her over…but he felt his master's disapproval, thick and heavy and suffocating, so he had obviously blundered.

Kylo slumped forward, catching himself with his hands; the jewel-tone patterns in the rug swirled together as pain pulsed through his mind and his vision tunneled.

"Report to my audience chamber immediately. It is time we had a conversation."

The pain was gone, leaving only a faint throbbing and bursts of brightness at the corners of his eyes. A wave of nausea hit with each flash. He stood, reaching for his shirt.

"I said _immediately_ ," the voice hissed.

He dropped the shirt and hurried down the stairs to the room Snoke had insisted be converted to a holo-chamber. While his master could speak directly into his mind, and pull his thoughts from him, it was, thankfully, not a Force bond like he shared with Rey; it didn't allow for free-flowing conversation. For that they had to communicate in more traditional ways.

Dread washed over him. What had he done? Was it the credits? He had been told he could spend whatever he needed to, and he had enjoyed the idea of Hux fuming as the expense reports came in, but perhaps he had been too extravagant? Or maybe it was his failure during meditation. His master would be displeased that he was not able to allow the currents of the dark side here to completely infuse him – but would he know that? Of course he would; the Supreme Leader was wise, he always knew. Or was it because he had let his thoughts be so utterly filled with Rey? Had he neglected his duty to his master? Looking over the past week, he realized he had. He had barely given the Supreme Leader or his mission a thought, his head was so full of Rey. He knew better; Snoke demanded total commitment. He had only been allowed to bring Rey here because he had argued that she would be an asset, not a distraction, that he could convince her to join them, and really, he hadn't even tried.

The holographic figure of his master was already present when he hurried into the audience chamber and dropped quickly to his knees. He felt terribly exposed, with his chest and feet bare. Silence stretched on, but he knew better than to speak first. Finally, Snoke spat out a single word, his voice dripping with disgust, "Well?"

"Master, I…I have been doing as you commanded. All is proceeding as planned."

"Indeed? Did it not occur to you that I would like to know how your little pet project was developing?"

Of course, of course he should have reported in, should have kept his master informed of his progress…

"Or your _lack_ of progress," the voice taunted. "The girl prowls around, gathering trinkets while you spend hours deciding whether to feed her cake or candy. You are no closer to bringing her to the dark side than you were when you brought her here."

"No! I am winning her over. Please. Forgive my lapse in updating you. It will not happen again. I was focused on…the mission…"

"I am aware of what you have been _focused on_ , boy."

His ears and cheeks burned. "I am trying to woo her, win her, as you said…you said I…I was allowed to…"

"You are supposed to be convincing her to embrace the darkness, not courting her like a boy seeking a bride. Have you even taken her to the caves below the castle? Allowed the darkness itself to entice her? Have you shown her the power she could wield?"

"I…"

"No. You have not. You have neglected your responsibility to me, your vow to make her one of us, an asset, a weapon, and have instead been playing house, serving her fancy food and dressing her up in beautiful clothes and indulging your baser desires. That is not how it is done, my apprentice. Do you need a reminder? Have you forgotten your first days with me?"

Kylo shuddered. No, he had not.

"Perhaps I should take over this task. Show you how to bend someone to your will. It is clearly a skill you have not yet learned…"

"No! Supreme Leader, I've made progress. She is already closer to giving in, I can feel it, I just need more time…"

Strands of energy – dark and painful - tightened around his naked chest until his lungs could barely expand, sapping his strength. He felt his own energy, his connection to the Force itself, slipping away.

"DO NOT lie to me!" Snoke's voice was like thunder as the tendrils of darkness coiled around him, tighter and tighter, slicing into his pale skin. He struggled not to scream, because that would show weakness, and that inevitably made it worse. He closed his eyes and did his best to keep his breathing even, despite barely being able to suck in air. He shouldn't have tried to excuse himself, he _had_ been ignoring his mission, he had failed, it was best to admit it and do better. He would do better, he wouldn't fail again, he would show his master that he could please him. He would make him proud, bringing Rey to him as the powerful warrior she could be, and he would see, he would see that Kylo was capable of training her.

Then as quickly as the net had surrounded him, it fell away, and Snoke's voice was soft again, almost gentle. "My boy, you know deceiving me is pointless. It will only bring you suffering. I know your thoughts, your feelings, your deepest desires – and I want to give you what you crave. But I can only do that if you are obedient."

Kylo clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling. "My apologies, master. You are correct. I have been neglectful of my duty, I have been indulging my own desires at the expense of your orders. I see my mistakes now. Please, forgive me. Allow me to continue with the girl. I will bring her to our side."

"We shall see. You have three weeks left. At the end of that time, she will kneel to me and swear her loyalty, or you will dispatch her."

Three weeks. _Three weeks three weeks three weeks_. It was such a short time. Could he do it, could he make her see, that quickly?

"Not with sweets and gowns and kisses, you can't, boy. Perhaps if you had years – but you do not. Three weeks. Stop wooing her. Bend her, break her, and bring her to me, a willing servant. Or dead."

He kept his eyes on the ground, clenched his fists even tighter.

Snoke laughed, a sibilant, sinister sound. "Still you rebel against this order, even with your recent correction fresh in your mind. Why? Because you enjoy rutting into her pretty little body? I never understood the human urge to…mate, but you have always been obedient, denied your impulses in order to channel your passions into more productive endeavors. I find your current behavior trying."

He drew in on himself in humiliation. It wasn't right for Snoke to know about that, to talk about it like it was something base and dirty, when it was special, sacred. His master tilted his head and he felt the familiar intrusion into his thoughts. He didn't resist – it would be pointless, and would only make it hurt more.

"Ahhhh." Snoke exhaled. "I see. It isn't about copulation. You're _in love_ with her."

There was no point in denying it.

"And since you love her, you cannot imagine killing her." Snoke sighed, like a disappointed parent. "Perhaps you are right. You never _will_ be as strong as your grandfather."

This change of subject surprised him, and he looked up, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know how your grandmother died?"

He was utterly confused now. "In childbirth." That, unlike his grandparents' identities, had never been a secret: his mother had always told him she was adopted by Bail and Breha Organa after her mother died in childbirth; her father was assumed to have been lost in the war. That part, of course, was another lie.

"Childbirth. Of course they would have told you that." Snoke snorted. "No. She came here, she and the Jedi, Kenobi, pursued your grandfather here in an effort to make him give up the power of the darkness. But he was strong; he had already embraced the darkness, let it in fully. He would not be swayed. But he still _loved_ her." He said the word as if it might be a disease that was catching. "He asked her to join him, to rule the galaxy with him. He would have made her his queen. But she turned him down. She loved the Republic more than she loved your grandfather. She chose them over him. So he did the only thing he could do. He killed her."

Kylo blinked. He felt dizzy, his mouth was dry, the room seemed to tilt and spin. That…surely that wasn't true. It didn't fit with what he had been told, what he had read once he learned his true heritage. He had inhaled everything he could find about his grandfather once he knew who he was – holobooks and recordings, official records and word-of-mouth accounts. Snoke had encouraged his obsession. After all, it was Vader's legacy he wanted him to claim. Among the myriad lies and legends and contradictions, the one consistent fact was that his grandfather loved his grandmother. That he could have _killed_ her – he couldn't believe that.

He knew all his thoughts were written on his face. He couldn't help it.

His master gave an almost sad smile. "You do not want to believe it. Nevertheless, it is true. You see, your grandfather was strong enough to do what was right, even when it hurt. Even when it meant he had to give up something he cherished. Think on that, boy. Now go."

* * *

He had gotten dressed in a fog, wandered through the castle's halls blindly, and had ended up in his grandfather's personal quarters.

He rarely ventured here. There was something foreboding, some energy that seemed to not want him there. But now…he needed to come here. His grandfather had never come to him in any sort of spirit form, had never spoken to him in words, but he had felt his presence in the melted helmet, had gained strength and courage from it. Perhaps here, where the man had lived, he could sense him, commune with him somehow.

He placed his hand on the long-unused bacta tank. "Is it true?" he asked. "Did you…did you kill her?"

He simply couldn't reconcile that idea with what he knew – Anakin Skywalker had loved Padmé Amidala, truly, deeply, perhaps madly. But he had loved her. He couldn't have killed her, he couldn't have. And yet, his master was wise. He had always been right about things. He was the one who had told him the truth about who his grandfather really was, the truth his family had lied to him about for years. Still, there was something, some nagging doubt.

"Grandfather, please." There was only silence and a deepening darkness, a weight that pressed down around him, as if whatever lingered in the room was inimitably sad. "Did you do this thing? Is it truly what I should do? If she refuses? Because if so…I'm not strong enough. I'm not." His voice broke as he pleaded with a ghost that wasn't even there.

"Grandfather, please, speak to me. Send me a sign, something, _anything_. Supreme Leader is wise but I think…I think he cannot understand what it means to be in love. You do. You were in love once, I know you were. As I am now. All I want is to have Rey by my side, but…she is so strong, the light in her is so bright, and I'm afraid I will fail. That she will refuse to join me, as Padmé Amidala refused to join you after you became who you were meant to be." He swiped a hand across his eyes, which had gone blurry with gathering tears.

"Supreme Leader senses my defiance, he knows I cannot carry out this order. I can't kill her. I cannot and I will not. And I know…I know what the penalty for such disobedience would be." Death was the best-case scenario. "But I just…I can't bring myself to even contemplate it. Especially after…Han Solo." He didn't know what he even wanted from his grandfather. A push toward the darkness that would allow him to see the order as a necessary sacrifice? Permission to disobey? If his grandfather appeared right then and said he had killed Padmé and that it had been the correct course of action, would it matter?

No, he realized.

He remained, leaning against the bacta tank, until his muscles ached from being in one position. There was no answer. There never was.

"My Lord?"

He jumped and spun around at the sound of Vaneé's voice. How the old man managed to appear and disappear undetected, without the aid of the Force, Kylo would never know.

"My Lord?" Vaneé said again, and Kylo realized he had just been staring at him.

"Yes?"

"Lord Vader often meditated there." Vaneé inclined his head toward the bacta tank. "I assisted him, with his armor, helped him get in and out."

Kylo nodded, unsure what the point was, embarrassed that Vaneé might have seen his tears.

"It helped, healed his body and eased his mind, especially when he remembered…her."

Kylo leaned forward. "My grandmother? He spoke of her? To you?"

Vaneé nodded. "He spoke of Padmé Amidala rarely, but always with intense love and deep regret."

"Regret?"

"He felt such guilt – not even the dark side could eliminate it. You see, he Force choked her in a fit of anger."

So it was true. Kylo's shoulders slumped, his head fell forward and his eyes slid closed. It made no difference; he couldn't do it. He was too weak, the light still clung to him.

The old man gave a dry cough, as if he had more to say.

Kylo looked at him. "Go on"

Vaneé rubbed his dry lips together, wrung his gnarled hands, finally spoke. "The Emperor told him he had killed her, but Lord Vader insisted that when he was taken from this planet, he could still sense her, alive." The old man walked into the room, the worn hem of his robe making a soft rustling sound against the floor. He reached out, ran his wrinkled fingers over the surface of the bacta tank, his eyes far away.

Kylo waited. Vaneé almost never spoke so much, certainly not about his grandfather, and he was afraid if he moved or spoke he would frighten the man away.

Finally Vaneé went on, "I believed him. I cared for Lord Vader. I feared him, as well, but I cared for him. Thinking of her, knowing he had hurt her, thinking that he had killed her – it tore at him even when nothing else could. I often wished I could reassure him that he had not been the one to kill her." Vaneé dipped his head. "But there was no way to prove it. Ironic, that now that proof is right in front of my face."

Kylo cocked his head. "I don't understand…"

"Your existence, my Lord."

He let out a frustrated huff. That didn't make sense. He wished the old man would stop talking in circles. "How am I proof that he didn't kill her?"

Vaneé's lips curved up in what must have been a smile. "Although it is no longer observed, everyone knows the date of Empire day. It was celebrated for decades."

He nodded. Of course, every school child could tell you that date.

Vaneé continued. "That was the day Chancellor Palpatine was proclaimed Emperor, the day Order 66 was carried out, the day your grandfather and Kenobi dueled here. The day he choked his wife."

Kylo nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Leia Organa is a well-known public figure."

Kylo stiffened.

Vaneé gave a small, apologetic bob of his head, but went on. "Her date of birth is easily found. It is…"

"Two days after Empire day, yes."

Vaneé's smile broadened, showing several missing teeth. "Without extensive medical intervention of the sort not available on this planet now, and certainly not almost six decades ago, a human fetus can survive for about four minutes after the death of the mother."

Four minutes.

Two days.

Kylo's eyes widened. That was it. That was what didn't fit. If Padmé Amidala had died here, on the day the Empire began, how could his mother and uncle have been born on Polis Massa two days later?

Darth Vader had not killed his one true love. The Emperor had lied. Snoke was wrong. Or…had the Supreme Leader lied as well? Kylo was reeling, the world shifting under his feet. He was…furious, relieved, confused, betrayed.

Kylo stumbled out of the room, down the stairs. He wanted to cry, rage, destroy. His saber was in his hand before he knew it and he was slashing at the obsidian walls in the hallway, all control gone.

Why would Snoke lie to him? Why would he want him to murder his Rey, his perfect, precious love? If Snoke had lied about that…he shook his head. It was too much, too monumental to contemplate.

He sliced deep gouges in the durasteel walls, watched the melting metal through a blur of tears, but it didn't help. He realized what he needed wasn't to rage and destroy. What he needed was Rey.

He switched off his saber and hurried toward the guest wing.

He nearly collided with Rey on the stairs. She was wearing a soft oatmeal-colored bathrobe; her hair was wet and her feet were bare. "Kylo? Are you…are you alright? I felt…you were afraid. In pain. Then the bond slammed shut and I couldn't find you. I've been looking all over and then I…I heard a commotion." Her eyes went to the saber still clenched in his hand. He clipped it to his belt. She had been worried about him. She had been looking for him.

If Snoke thought he could ever kill her, his Rey…

He grabbed her and pulled her against his chest. The places the Force net had seared his skin still stung, but everywhere she touched him, even through his clothes, felt like a balm, cool and soothing. "Rey, Rey, Rey." He held her tightly, so tightly, his arms wrapped around her. "I will never hurt you. You know I would never hurt you, right?" he whispered into her damp hair.

"Of course I do, Kylo," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "What happened? I felt pain. Are you injured?"

He let her go, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, tried to calm his breathing. His mind was still reeling. "I have neglected my duties recently because I was preoccupied with, well…" he managed a small, weak smile as his eyes roved over her face. "The Supreme Leader was…displeased." He couldn't tell her the rest. Not now. Maybe not ever. He wasn't even ready to accept the implications of what had just happened himself yet.

Rey's brow furrowed and her lips pursed. "I don't understand. Did he hurt you? Because of me?"

He studied her face, her lips, her eyes, her little turned up nose. Force, he loved her so much. He shook his head. "No. Because of me. I should have reported in. It was my fault. I should have known."

She leaned closer, placed a hand on his cheek. Oh, her hand, so soft and warm and gentle. He realized how unaccustomed he was to gentle touch, how long it had been since he had been touched softly. His eyelids fluttered closed and he inhaled. She smelled so good, like soap and water, so fresh and damp in this hot dry place.

"I was so worried," she said.

"There's no need. Please, love, don't let it distress you."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Okay. Well, I'll…I'll go get dressed then. But, umm, do you…do you want to maybe come with me? I don't want to leave you."

"I'm fine," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"I know. But maybe I'm not. That frightened me. Please, come with me."

His eyes found hers then. "Alright. I would like that."

She smiled, and leaned in, pressing her rosy lips to his in a delicate kiss that ended with just the tiniest flick of her tongue against his. It was one of the most arousing things he had ever experienced.

* * *

All foods, wines, fabrics, etc. from Wookieepedia. 'Satyn' is the SW spelling of satin...it feels like it's just misspelled.

I checked and double-checked the timeline for when the Mustafar duel happened and when Luke and Leia were born – two days passed, although it doesn't seem like it watching ROTS, so I hope all that makes sense. And the part about a baby being able to survive 4 minutes after the mother dies is plain old Googling.

So many thanks, and wine and chocolates, to Perry Downing for her beta skills and comments.

And more wine and chocolates for anyone who reads, reviews, comments, kudos, favorites, follows, bookmarks, likes or reblogs…I appreciate all of it so much!


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